Golden Boy
by TheBatKid
Summary: Short chapters to give insights into Peter's life with the Avengers. Includes all Avengers characters, and a Tony and Steve pairing.
1. Slime

Golden Boy

"Daddy, no."

Peter looked disgustedly at the spoonful of food that Tony offered him, dripping with some God forsaken vegetable that the child hadn't eaten before. It wasn't broccoli or even spinach – it looked like some sort of lab experiment that had gone horribly wrong, but not quite so wrong that they didn't want to feed it to their only son.

"Come on Pete, be a good boy!" Steve encouraged from his usual seat, hidden behind a newspaper as his fiancé struggled on with their child's dinner, "If you don't eat your vegetables, you'll never grow big and strong like Daddy and me."

"Weak, weak," the boy's insistence brought a smile to his father's face; it had been a sort of joke around that, even if he didn't eat his vegetables or partake in gruelling gym routines, their little boy would be one of the strongest Avengers in their team. His powers had seen to that.

Again Tony tried to encourage the spoonful of green slime to Peter's lips, and again he was met with resistance as the boy kicked his legs, trying to free himself of the blue high chair's restraints whilst his food remained untouched. The billionaire didn't blame him really; it wasn't the nicest thing to have ever graced the glistening china plates and it did have a strange scent about it, like it had been dragged through the sewers before they served it up to their alien.

Soon enough, the tycoon was ready to call in defeat, "He really doesn't want to eat this, Steve. Why don't we just order some pizza?" his super soldier boyfriend glanced up from boring black and white newsprint, letting the paper fall just enough so that his eyes were visible above it. That grimace on his face told Tony all he needed to know.

"Why don't you try feeding him, then?"

"Because I fed him last night. Remember, the infamous fork and soup incident because _someone_ accidentally broke our spoons?"

Tony shrugged to hide his smile when he thought about that night, a direct result of what happened when he let JARVIS test out lasers in the kitchen. It was peculiar that only the spoons had been affected – if the billionaire didn't know any better, he would have said that the AI was having a bit of fun with them, since he knew that Steve had intended to make soup that night and it was his turn to feed the child.

"It's not my fault that JARVIS had to test out the lasers."

"Yes, but it's your fault that you locked yourself in the lab afterwards and wouldn't come help me with him."

"Hey!" Tony couldn't help but let a chuckle slip, which made Steve give him that 'frustrated but in love' look that he usually wore, "You're right, and I'm very sorry?"

"No you're not, but apology accepted," with a sigh the super soldier dropped his newspaper and moved to sit next to his fiancé, his face beaming at his dark-locked young son as he picked up the spoon, "Why couldn't you have bought these last night?"

"Shut up and help!" the child looked up at his two fathers, sitting side by side like they were an army intent on invading. The green slime in front of him was their weapon of choice as they loomed closer to his high chair, his one territory that they wanted to keep for themselves.

And he resisted the attacks bitterly, "No! No! Bad dinner, bad dinner for Peter!" shaking his head from side to side in an attempt to flee, the child's fierce battle almost broke Tony's heart whilst they continued to feed him. He didn't want to force such foul smelling, sickly tasting food into his son's mouth but, to keep him in relative good health and give him a chance against their multitude of enemies, he needed to digest something good for his system.

"Come on little guy, open wide for the aeroplane," purred the leader as he let the spoon soar through the air, "You've got to let all these passengers get to their holiday in your tummy!" Peter couldn't help but smile at the thought of his stomach being a holiday destination, a place where food would go on their final little getaway before they became part of his muscles. Well, the muscles that Steve insisted he was getting…

But that wasn't enough to make Peter want to eat. He leaned back to bring himself further from the spoon, his eyes directed on the large windows behind them so he could see the waning sunlight. When would they give in and let him go to bed? He'd rather have no dinner than be forced to eat that slimy slop.

It was then that they heard a booming voice from the foyer, calling celebrations before Thor, Bruce and Clint entered the room, holding giant boxes of pizza without so much as a slice of them eaten.

"What's all the noise about?" the leader asked with a confused expression on his face, "I thought you guys were out at the cinema?"

"We were, but then our friend received a call from his Joanna; she's returning from the Maldives early to celebrate his birthday with us, and I believed that called for early jubilations!" Thor set down his massive burden on the table before he turned to Peter, tickling him affectionately as part of their usual greeting, "What's this? It…it smells like something from the very depths of Hel."

Steve could see the child getting distracted from their meal, "It's Pete's dinner, Thor. He's got to finish it before we take him for his bath and bedtime."

The aroma of pizza had already filled the boy's nostrils though, and by that time it was too late for his fathers to do anything. He was reaching down adorably for the more delicious meal, his eyes ablaze with that puppy dog look that melted butter, which made Tony give the same look to his stern fiancé as they looked at each other. It would be pointless to resist their angel. It always was.

"Fine, but only for tonight!" secretly the super soldier was relieved that pizza had become an option, since he didn't want to give in by ordering it but didn't want to force their child into eating something so vile, "After that, it's back to vegetables and proper, home-cooked food, do you understand me Anthony Stark?"

And in unison, all of the team members droned, "Yes Captain Daddy."


	2. Getaway

**Warning; slightly adult situation between Tony and Steve.**

* * *

Tony leaned forward to bring his lips closer to Steve's, revelling in the unusual privacy they had, "I love you so much."

"I love you too Tony," the super soldier whispered before they embraced lovingly, as they had done so many times before when they finally had a moment to themselves. If only their team weren't so squeamish about the more physical side of their relationship – Steve would have liked to be able to stride into the conference room, plant a kiss on his fiancé's head afore he sat in that designated seat beside him, his mind set on the mission at hand rather than making small talk with the man he loved.

He would have also had liked to be in a more romantic spot instead of their living room at that moment, such as soaking up the sun's rays in California or enjoying a candlelit dinner by the Eiffel Tower. Instead of the gentle strum of a guitar playing by a riverbank or the yelp of people playing on a crowded beach, Steve found himself just as content on the black leather sofa of their living room, holding a piping hot cup of coffee in his hands as the news played on their plasma screen, entwining lovingly with his fiancé in that rare moment of peace.

"We need to get away for a while; take a breather from it all, y'know?" the billionaire said as his eyes narrowed, like an alluring beacon of brown pleasure that Steve had long ago fallen for, "Go somewhere they won't think to look."

Steve practically purred whilst he pushed his head forward again, another embrace between them that sounded noisily through the air, "Sounds nice, but we couldn't do that. Pete's too young to be travelling that far."

"Ah," sparkles ran through Tony's eyes when he gazed at his muscular, super enhanced boyfriend that had to wait ninety years to meet him, and couldn't believe that the words were about to fall from his lips, "I wasn't actually thinking of taking Pete with us."

That startled look in Steve's eyes said it all. The deep blue clashed onto his dark brown almost violently, shock numbing his system to the point where he couldn't feel the mug burning his palms, before finally he managed to choke out some sort of sentence.

"You want to leave him behind?!"

"Not forever Steve! Just for a couple days, a little vacation for ourselves so that we can get…" Tony's fingers laced around his fiancé's thigh, an impish grin on his face as a sultry tone came out, "Reacquainted?"

A blush crept along Steve's features. Quickly he placed the coffee mug on the glass coffee table beside them, just knowing that he would drop it if he didn't put it down, "Do we really need to go away for that?"

"Oh, let me think – between the missions, the team, our work, your motorbike, Peter…no, you know what, I think we can extend the week by a few hours," the sarcasm in Tony's voice cut Steve like a knife, more so than if he had outright told him to stop being so stupid and focus on the facts. The billionaire realised this as his grip was lost on his boyfriend's thigh, moved back whilst he tried to sit up straight, "You know what I'm saying, Steve. We can't keep an iron-tight grip on Pete forever, no matter how much we love him, and going away for a while would be just what we need to get our relationship back on track."

"I wasn't aware it was off-track."

"Well, we've had enough practice on the cutesy, day-in day-out fiancé thing! If you haven't already noticed, I'm Tony Stark – it's a wonder I haven't blown out my brains from the boredom of this routine!"

Whereas it may have hurt someone less equipped, it more or less made Steve realise the error of their ways. It had just become routine lately; the heat of what had been the start of their relationship had faded somewhat, worn into lukewarm embers rather than the raging fire of what should have been their engagement, and it wouldn't have been long before they realised those embers had gone out. They needed to have some adult time together.

And Peter wasn't an adult.

So with a heavy sigh, he agreed, "You're right Tony. God, I hate it when you're right."

"It happens often enough."

"Not on the stuff that actually matters…usually you're just right on the science things, the stuff no one needs to think about unless they're you," a grin descended on the soldier's face, "Or Bruce."

Tony didn't give in to the slight jab since usually, he'd argue that he and Bruce were on completely different ends of the science spectrum, "So where do you wanna go? I hear the Alps has some great cabins further up, the sort of seclusion we'd need for what I've got in mind…"

"Does it have souvenirs? I'd like to go somewhere we can get a few keepsakes, especially since we're leaving Pete behind."

"Then we'll have a little look on the old laptop," Tony pulled the closest computer he could find towards him, which just so happened to be the one Steve had been storing his more questionable of stories on, "Jesus Steve, this thing is old. You know they came out with something since Windows Vista? I've really got to upgrade this thing for you."

Steve didn't want to argue with him about something so trivial, though he did manage to give a little grunt of dissatisfaction before Tony found his way on the internet, "AND internet explorer? What version? Oh babe, I've got to give you a lesson in computers. Schedule it for tomorrow; I've got Pete for the exact same thing."

Again he didn't say anything, content to watch as his boyfriend so skilfully found his way onto a travel agent's and searched for a romantic getaway that they could disappear on. Perhaps they should have informed Fury first…

But there was little to regret when Tony had found their perfect vision of what would be a rekindling adventure, somewhere off the Coast of Hawaii, near enough to some small settlement where Steve could collect his souvenirs and Tony could keep them stocked on alcohol.

Well, alcohol, candles, certain aids…

"He's not going to be happy about this, you know." The leader pointed out almost quietly. Tony glanced back as if fearful to confirm it, angry that he had a need outside of his wholesome little family life.

"I know, but it's for the best. He'd be a lot sadder if his daddies didn't like each other anymore, wouldn't he?"

Steve shrugged in reply. The billionaire smiled slightly; he didn't normally like that defeated look in Steve's eyes, the way his shoulders slumped in complete submission whilst he realised the hopelessness in their situation, but in that case he was ecstatic for it. It meant that there would be little resistance in the way of their needs.

"Hey," the super soldier looked up to be softly embraced again, hands on the white fabric of his shirt as they kissed, "It's going to be okay. You know what Peter's like – he can't stay mad at us too long, especially when he's got presents. He's an Avenger, remember."

"Yeah, he is," Steve felt a grin stretch on his face, "Not that we wanted him to be."


	3. The Babysitters

"Peter, please come down from the ceiling."

"No."

Steve sighed as he leaned back in the playroom, staring up at his son hugging the ceiling lights. They had told him about their little trip first, a sort of get-it-out-of-the-way method that Tony thought would be best, yet it had only served in Peter charging up his powers and floating up to the chandelier.

"Is he still up there?" the billionaire asked as he strode into the light blue room, feet careful not to trample his son's block houses whilst his arms were burdened with shopping.

"Yep, he's been up there since you left," Steve's sad expression struck Tony right down to the core. It wasn't because it was particularly thought-provoking, and it wasn't because the tycoon had made his beloved fiancé sad; the look didn't come about often enough for Tony to know if he'd upset the super soldier, so he knew that Peter's reaction was striking a very sore nerve.

Smiling, he put the brown paper shopping bags on the floor and employed his most stern, yet most gentle voice to the ceiling, "You're not going to change our mind by staying up there all day. Why don't you come down here and have a snack?" the child shot him a look of pure hurt before shaking his head viciously, a reaction Tony expected somewhat, "Are you sure? I've got Monster Munch…"

It was Peter's favourite snack, but it wasn't enough to bring the little alien down. With great ease he let go of the crystal chandelier, his body floating whilst he hugged his knees and brought them to his face. The light blue ceiling was becoming stained with his fingerprints, the brown chocolate he had eaten before becoming a regret for Steve as he imagined how he'd clean that up.

"Maybe we shouldn't go," the super soldier asked nervously whilst collecting up the shopping bags, his face a thoughtful frown as he followed his boyfriend down to the kitchen, "He's so upset about it."

"Kids will always get upset, especially when they're this age. He's having a normal reaction to it."

"Normal reaction? Most kids don't float up to the ceiling when they're upset, Tony. What if he gets hurt? Is a vacation away worth him getting hurt?" a rhetorical question, since both of them knew the billionaire thought nothing was worth their little boy's injuries. Sometimes, it was a wonder if he actually thought the globe's safety was worth Peter's bruises and scratches, many of which came from their overly dangerous missions.

But Tony could see the cogs turning in Steve's head. He was thinking as an overprotective father, a mistake the billionaire often made himself, and soon enough he wouldn't want to go on their little holiday away. He'd want to stay home with their little boy, without thought of the slowly dying embers that still had some chance of rekindling.

"He'll be fine. When he feels himself going faint, he'll bring himself down from the ceiling and fall asleep on the bean bag chair. You know we taught him to do that," scratching his neatly trimmed goatee, Tony began to place food in their unusually big American-style fridge freezer. It was one of the many things in the Tower that had been specially made, equipped to feed not only a team but a living Demi-God too. The sleek chrome design seemed to hum with energy as the billionaire put away their daily shopping, the treats he'd intended to coax Peter down on the top shelf so that the alien couldn't get to them.

Well, not without using his powers.

"I just don't want him to get upset over this. It's not worth him working himself up," Steve pointed out whilst he peered at a few of the things his fiancé had bought, most notably some sort of Polish cheese that they'd never had before, "He's only little."

"Well, technically, he's a few centuries older than we think," it wasn't a love of Tony's to bring up Peter's true age. To the reporters, globe and even their family, the child was just that – a child, being raised by two of the most remarkable men on the planet.

But in reality, Peter was much older than those men; much older than nearly every single thing on that green earth. It was only Thor who was perhaps slightly more ancient than he was, and certainly more matured than Peter had become.

"You know what I mean, Tony. He's our little boy, and I don't want him to keep feeling upset at what we do. He's temperamental at the best of times; he takes after his father for that."

"You're very predictable, Steve."

"I might be, but you're not," he turned to see that wicked grin creeping across the super soldier's feature, that smile that made Tony want to kiss and slap him at the same time. It was a skill that only Steve had perfected.

Although the billionaire often wondered if that was a good thing or not, "So, what do you want to do? Cancel our plans? Because I can tell you now, I will personally blow my brains out if we have to keep doing this routine every day."

"I don't know. Come on, you're the smart one – what do you think we should do?" it was a crafty plan that Steve normally used in that pristine kitchen, but often when they were enjoying a well-cooked dinner and Tony wouldn't stop talking to Pete about physics. Compliment the billionaire and he'd forget all about his conversations.

And by the smile on his face, Steve could see it'd worked, "Nice to see you're realising it. We're taking this trip, whether Pete likes it or not. We'll just get his favourite babysitters to take care of him, won't we?"

"Are you sure about that? Last time, we got back to a pretty huge mess…"

"Considering they live here too – and they had to help us clear up – I don't think that'll be a problem this time."

"Fine, but you're telling them."

Another mischievous smile crept along the billionaire's slightly tanned complexion, his chocolate brown eyes glinting with that same roguish joy that Peter often had, "I'm not scared of Thor, Brucey or Clint. Fury and Natasha, though? You can deal with those two."


	4. Dinner without Pete

Peter's face twisted under the stress of his situation. He growled unappreciatively as Thor jabbed him lightly with the broom handle, trying to coax him from the ceiling.

"You're late for supper, little spaceman," the God said with each thrust of his wooden weapon, like the child would want to come down from his self-imposed solitary confinement if there were food on offer. There wasn't much that the child wouldn't eat, save a few choice vegetables and a collection of Bruce's culinary works, and he never wanted to miss the opportunity for food.

It suddenly seemed as that's all he wanted to do, "No! No dinner! Want stay!" with a sweep of his frail appendage, he disarmed Thor as if he were nothing but a weak new-born and not the Demi-God from Asgard. The man hardly missed a beat when he clutched something else to jab the child with, but that time much heavier – an old metal broom handle, one that had been discarded after the head fell off it and Tony had insisted was a health hazard.

How it had ended up in the playroom's closet, Thor would never know.

"You have to come down for dinner. You shall not gain your muscle if you refuse to eat now, will you spaceman?" Peter felt a soft patting at his stomach where Thor was trying to coax him down, but he was far too proud to give in. He took too much after Tony in that aspect.

"No."

Thor sighed, throwing down his weapon before he stalked out of the room in defeat. How could Peter have been so upset about it? It wasn't as if Tony and Steve were disappearing for good – they were simply off on a trip together, a romantic getaway as far as he'd been told. Soon they would have returned to serve the child in the way they saw fit, an entire lifetime dedicated to making sure their son was happy whilst their relationship took a backburner.

"Is he okay?" Steve asked nervously when his friend finally entered the kitchen, picking away at the steak placed in front of him as his eyes locked onto Thor's, "Did he come down from the ceiling?"

"No, I'm afraid the spaceman is adamant about his residence there, so I have left him to think on it," it was a wonder they didn't want Thor to take care of all Peter's little outbursts since, on many occasions, he had shown a strange aptitude for knowing a child's behaviour. Especially when that child came from unfathomable reaches of the universe.

Tony sighed from his place beside Bruce, his hand on that massive physics book that he'd recently bought, "He's been up there for a good few hours now. Stubborn little kid…"

"Who does that remind you of?" Natasha giggled. Her view was that Peter would go against his parents many times, even though he loved them more than anything else in the world. He was a little boy; the things he did didn't usually come with an explanation, and there weren't any easy fixes for dealing with his moods. Everyone was waddling into parenthood blindly.

It wouldn't be any different for a super soldier and a billionaire playboy.

But they weren't in the mood to be thinking about things like that, "Well, Tony's insistent that we take this vacation…which actually brings me to my next question."

Everyone turned to face the leader, seated at the head of the long white table as he normally was. Suddenly the sirloin steak in front of him didn't look appetising, his gut wracked by the weight of eyes on him and the question dry on his trembling lips. They weren't going to like his request. It was just as well that he didn't like asking them.

"You're all Pete's uncles…and aunt," he nodded towards Natasha when she flashed him that reminding look, as they often forgot to refer to her as an aunt and simply bundled her as an honorary uncle, "And you've got certain…duties…that come with that title, don't you guys think? So, with that in mind, Tony and I want to ask you-"

"If we'll put our life on hold to babysit Pete while you guys go have fun," Clint dived in to finish his sentence, although in a less-than-romantic way than Steve would have hoped. With that nonchalant look he sipped on his pint glass of water, his food basically untouched whilst the cogs in his mind seemed to keep turning, "Yeah, I'll do it."

Tony could hardly believe what he had heard, "W-what?"

"I said, I'll look after Pete for a few days."

"What, just like that?"

"Sure, why not? Might be fun to watch the little guy; gives me a chance to make him practice archery, right?" he turned his gaze towards Natasha, "What d'you say?"

"If you're looking after him, I better be there to make sure he actually gets some food and sunlight," her reply was laced with humour as she playfully pushed his hand away, like two lovesick teenagers on their first night out. Bruce smiled towards his friends for a moment before he replied, running his hands through his black hair as he did when thinking carefully.

"I'm not doing anything for a while – I can make a few days clear for babysitting, I guess."

"And I shall join them!"

All eyes turned to Fury, who had been content with listening to the conversation and not voicing his opinion. Beneath his face of calm Steve could tell he was slightly annoyed, perhaps angry that they hadn't cleared a holiday with him before they went ahead and booked it, but whatever reprimanding he had in store seemed to be lost when he thought about babysitting. His eye-patch almost trembled whilst he gazed at his friends, each of them just waiting for him to say something.

Then, with a heavy sigh in his voice, he finally answered, "Fine, I have to make sure that the Tower runs smoothly in Steve's absence. I guess I can section a bit of that time for Pete."

"Steve's absence?" the billionaire furrowed his brow as he locked gazes with Fury's good eye, "What about me?"

"Your absence will mean that I've got some time off anyway, Stark. You know how many reports I have to stop sending so you can stay on the team? Just…don't blow up Hawaii while you're there. I don't think I can cover that up."

Tony's face contorted in a frown towards his friend, although he kept his suggestion in mind. He wasn't planning on bringing any of his inventions, but it was probably a good idea to make a mental note about it…

"Well then, it's settled," Steve's own features stretched into a grin, the sort of grin seen on a newly blushing bride or a father when his first son was born, "Tony and me will start packing tomorrow. Are you guys sure that you'll be able to take care of him? He's a little upset."

"Nothing that a good archery course won't fix," Clint insisted in an oddly enthusiastic way, as if the thought of passing his wisdom on caused a jolt of excitement to whirl through him. It wasn't far from the truth; in the absence of his own children, Barton enjoyed passing on his legacies and skills to the one person he thought could use it, and whenever Peter began to improve he felt that familiar stab of joy in his heart. It was…it was something close to pride, but he'd learnt long ago that pride was dangerous.

The beam on the blonde's pale complexion told them he needed that trip, more so than he would ever dare admit, "Thanks guys, it means a lot that you'd look after him for us."

"Even though it's pretty much a pleasure to look after someone like Pete," Tony dived in after what seemed like an age of silence, at least from his lips, "He's going to completely destroy your take on modern physics, Brucey. I've been teaching him."

"Oh great, so I'm going to have to correct what you got wrong and look further into quantum mechanics?"

"Don't you turn this into a war, Brucey – I'll win it, like always."

"Why don't you explain to me your theories about your recent research, and then we'll discuss about why it's wrong and how it isn't physically possible."

And as Tony began to go in to his more recent scientific escapades, everyone at the table groaned.


	5. Confessions of a Hawk

Clint playfully splashed Peter's face as he washed him in the bath, his attempt to get used to babysitting as successful as many of his missions. With skill honed from his hours of archery, he manoeuvred the child to the end of the tub before he found his hands on the shampoo bottle, in the shape of a duck to keep the kids more interested in hygiene.

Either that, or to give their parents nightmares about it. Clint didn't like its lifeless eyes, staring out through the high quality blue paint whilst its bill was mysteriously curved into a smile, but Peter didn't seem to mind. His childish thoughts weren't programmed to wonder what it was hiding; it took a moment for the archer to remind himself of this, and to remind himself that it was just an expensive bottle. Nothing more.

"Looks like I need to lighten up a bit more," he mused mostly to himself as he poured a thick glop of the shampoo into Peter's hair, allowing it to ooze like it were maple syrup rather than a hair-care product. The frothy foam of the bathtub effectively hid the child's hands whilst he played with his toy submarines, the ones that Steve had bought on impulse because they looked strangely like the American WWII models.

He gave him a grimace when Clint began rubbing the stuff into his hair, "No! Smells funny!" his English had improved somewhat over the months, more so in recent weeks after Tony had finally purchased a Muzzy DVD, but still he found some of the subtleties difficult. His progress wasn't hindered however, as his super soldier father often put the DVD on during his naptime and allowed him to listen to it during slumber.

"I know, it's not exactly cherries or raspberries," the archer pulled it to his face to read the small print writing, although he could easily have read it from a good few metres away, "What is this, pomegranate? Tony really doesn't go for normal stuff."

About six hours prior to that bath, the two superheroes had packed up their things and left the Tower for Hawaii's sunny coast. It had been a heart-warming affair to watch Steve kiss his son goodbye, promise him a good few souvenirs by way of an apology before Tony did exactly the same thing, except his promises were more laced with 'correcting mistakes' and 'going over last week's experiment.' Clint wondered how it felt to be a father sometimes, but more often than not he felt like one with the amount of responsibility they had.

And if looking after an entire world wasn't responsibility, he didn't know what was.

"Uncle?" he looked down to Peter's green eyes, a smile on his face as he nodded for him to continue, "Daddies back?"

"Soon, little guy."

"Want back now. Want Daddy and Captain Daddy," the archer noticed a subtle change in his nephew's tone, that sort of elevated sadness that came through whenever he was trying not to cry. It was something he had observed over their time together – Peter was an emotional creature, as many other children were, but with his emotions came changes in his nature. Sadness made him more withdrawn. Anger made him louder. He couldn't remember if children did the same thing, since Peter had been the only child he'd had to deal with in a while.

His reaction wasn't quite anticipated, "Hey, don't get upset." He pulled the child towards him with a smile on his face, not caring whether shampoo on his head stained his trousers as Peter hugged his knees, like he was facing a dangerous enemy and the only person he could rely on was Clint.

That had only happened once…

"Miss them."

"I know you do Pete," with great care the archer lifted him out of the bath, wrapping him firmly in a fluffy white towel whilst the water dripped to the pristine tiled floor, "You're a big boy though, aren't you? You can take a few days without your daddies, can't you?" the look of uncertainty passed through Peter's features, the same look that Clint had worn on his first day of training, the same look that had danced on Tony's face when he cut down on alcohol, the same look that Bruce had when he considered living in civilisation. It was a look that could destroy a man. "Hey, listen to me, okay?"

Even more uncertainty flashed, but Peter nodded in obedience.

Clint glanced around the expensive white and black room to make sure they were alone. He saw the mood lights built into the bathtub as if they were cameras, the chrome shower head like some sort of listening device and the white shower curtain like a screen for an assailant, but he pushed those thoughts to the back of his head when he turned back to Peter. They weren't being watched. He could speak from the heart to that little boy, and mean every single word that fell out of his mouth.

"You are one of the bravest kids I know," he began on a cliché note though he didn't give room for interruptions, "You're smart, quick, powerful; none of that means anything if you haven't got courage too. Have you ever seen a warrior that didn't face his fears?"

Peter shook his head.

"Ever seen a smart guy that wasn't brave enough to make something?"

Again, the child shook his head.

"But you're going to go far Pete, and it's because you're so brave. These next few days? They'll be nothing once they're over; you'll see Tony and Cap afterwards and you'll think, 'huh, why was I so scared?' You're a great kid, Pete. You're an Avenger. And you make me proud, okay?"

The confession was unexpected. Peter stared into the eyes of his uncle for a moment, wondering whether or not he was joking …before falling into his arms in one of the tightest hugs known to man. The porcelain, the granite wall coverings and the black tiles – it all melted into the blackness as the two teammates hugged one another, their loss of the world extending to even the black bath rug underneath them.

"I love you, little guy."

"I love you, Uncle Hawk."


	6. Returning

The days trickled by. Peter watched the driveway intently every afternoon, determined to be the first one to greet his beloved fathers back and hear all about their holiday away, but at the rate it was going Tony and Steve wouldn't have many details they were able to tell him.

It was a cosy little cabin that the billionaire had rented, some walking distance to both the beach and town so they didn't have to bother hiring a car. They spent the days with romantic candlelit dinners by the seaside, guitar music in the dying light of what was once a blazing sun, and a few martinis in the cabin before they got to more intimate stages. Hardly a moment was spent thinking on home, and when it was the topic was always their precious Peter.

"Are you ready to eat, little man?" Bruce affectionately asked when he came out to see the boy, sitting in his usual spot with that same hopeful expression on his face, "It's getting too dark for you to be out here."

But the child didn't even notice as the ground became inflicted with black shadows, most of which were cast over his face and made him all but disappear from sight, "No. Daddies back soon."

Bruce let a grimace dance across his face. It was true that the superheroes were due back that day – and not a moment too soon considering the recent laboratory explosion and the accidental Peter incident involving a plunger – but they had called some time ago to inform the team about delays. Delays that could, potentially, mean that they weren't getting back until the next morning.

"I don't think…well, come on, you can wait for them indoors," without the heart to tell young Peter about their predicament, the scientist simply picked him from the frozen concrete floor and brought him inside.

Fury had prepared the meal, and Bruce was actually surprised to see how well it had turned out. Great walls of chicken strips bordered the outside of the dining table whilst on the inside, there were settlements and fortresses made out of various pieces of dessert or savoury sweets. Mashed potato hillsides rested in the corner of that great kingdom, their mushy backs hiding the secret enemies of peas that hid within. Clint shot him a look of pure shock when he came in, to which the director just shrugged and replied, "I got bored."

Peter didn't have the heart to eat. He politely chewed upon a chicken strip and tried to swallow a lump of mashed potato, but the own lump in his throat stopped him. His daddies weren't there. That meant that he couldn't rest until he had cuddled them again, or at least until he heard their car coming in and he was quickly hurried upstairs to bed.

"Drive faster Tony," Steve was saying to his boyfriend in the car, his ring glinting at them as they broke the speed limit, "I want to get home quickly."

"Relax, relax; we'll get there in time," the billionaire could only smile at his fiancé as they charged down the tunnel, illuminated only by those garish orange lights and accompanied by some other late-night drivers.

"I've missed everyone so much – Bruce, Thor, Tash, Clint, Fury. And you know who I've missed the most."

"I know, I've missed him too," Tony had to be careful not to let the stinging tears impair his vision, although he could already tell that the road was becoming blurred in front of him. Not that there was much variation from charcoal black…

"Do you think he missed us?"

"Are you serious? Did you see how upset he got when we were leaving? He's missed us more than we know."

"I hope he hasn't cried. I don't want to be the reason he cries," more tears, but that time from the super soldier's eyes. He couldn't imagine being the reason his sweet little soldier had cried, the light of his life and the reason he struggled so bravely during battle, just to ensure his own little superman survived through another hardship. He was so brave.

He had always been so brave.

By the time they finally pulled into that familiar driveway, cruising past the potted plants that lined the infamous Stark Tower, Tony could barely contain his excitement. Steve gathered their bags that they had just flung into the car, interested in getting away as quickly as they could before the fans caught wind of them.

"Got the presents?" the billionaire managed to ask whilst he dusted his suit down, a small kiss planted on his fiancé's lips before he took his own luggage from him and opened the car door. He was rewarded by a nod. "Good. Think he'll like the little figurine?"

"Like it? It makes noises and lights. He'll love it."

"Correction; you loved it, and you really hope he does because you're keeping it anyway."

"That too."

With a grin they opened the door, immediately on the lift before anyone could see them and on the way to their precious little alien. It was a day they had been waiting for. In between all the days they had needed, of course.

Bruce finished clearing up the plates as Thor finished off yet another riveting tale about his childhood, which only Peter seemed young enough to find interesting. Perhaps it was the way the God spoke, with such vigour and enthusiasm that he seemed to be reliving the tale, or the fact that Peter could relate to many of the things he said, particularly about being chosen for things against his will and forced into ceremonies he didn't want. Just as the scientist was about to call it a night, another voice boomed over Thor's.

"Honey's, we're home!" a second later Tony's face appeared in the doorway, and Peter whooped with joy as he was accompanied by his blonde counterpart of a fiancé. They had returned! They were back home from their lengthy holiday, which had taken at least five whole days out of their time together.

It was Tony who first threw his arms around Peter. With a strength that didn't come close to Steve's he lifted him, kissing the side of his head as if they had been parted for centuries and were finally reunited, whilst the super soldier clasped his arms around them to give his family a tight squeeze.

"How was the trip?" Natasha asked though no one was listening to her, granted Steve managed a reply through the fabric of Tony's back.

"It was great; the delays weren't brilliant, but you know what he's like," he pointed at the billionaire, still locked in a tight hug with Peter and only half listening to what was going on, "Flashes a smile and the planes are suddenly clear to go."

"Daddies!"

"Hey, how was he? Nothing happened, did it?" Tony's face suddenly became suspicious since, every time they left little Peter with their friends, it didn't normally end well.

"Tonnes, but it can wait til later. I think you guys need to go catch up or Pete's going to strangle someone."

They took Bruce's words to heart – with smiles on their faces and son in arm, the two men returned to their master bedroom in the highest of spirits, the lukewarm embers a roaring flame.


	7. Sleeping

Peter spent that night in his favourite place, wedged between the warm bodies of his fathers and locked tightly in their arms. He snored softly as he rested their, completely oblivious to the tanned features that stared down and watched his chest rise and fall, those soft features relaxed into an almost heavenly sleep.

"God I've missed you," Tony whispered before he planted a delicate kiss on his cheek, the sort that ghosted the actual skin but spread warmth through his entire body, "My pretty boy."

"Don't use the Lord's name in vain," his super soldier boyfriend teased as he brought him into a tighter hug. There was a faint chuckle Tony reached over to touch his lover's face, twinkling brown eyes barely visible through the gathering dark around them.

"I think you're being a bit of a hypocrite, aren't you? Remember the other night?"

"That was different – I was close enough to Heaven."

With more smiles they disappeared into those memories, the reminder that their passion was rekindled ever present when they clasped their hands together and pecked their child's head. Who could have known how much they'd miss him? It was nearly every day that they thought about him, and it took Steve a lot of restraint not to call home for a quick check in. Tony was right. They needed to allow the boy some manner of independence, even if that meant they'd have to go through such painful separation.

Peter let out another soft snore whilst they chatted quietly, although in reality he was very much awake. He liked listening to his father's discussions, to the little details they thought he was too young to hear and kept until he had finally fallen asleep, granted they weren't normally that interesting. Usually, Steve chatted about football whilst Tony tried to get him to lean more towards science; it was the only time Peter ever heard the captain swear, and even then he tried to keep the language to a minimum.

"Thanks for arranging the trip, Tony. I think we needed to get away for a while. We shouldn't leave Pete alone again, at least not until he's a bit bigger and more mature to deal with it. We wouldn't want him getting upset again," Steve's words held no note of conviction to them. His hands trembled with the thought of leaving their son behind again, his voice hitched slightly in his throat when he remembered the boy's reaction – it was strange that he managed to be torn away from that weeping face, though he wouldn't have managed it if Tony wasn't strong for them both.

The billionaire allowed tears to appear in his eyes for a moment, but they were gone almost as quickly as they had arrived, "I know you don't want to leave him Steve. I didn't want to either. If you want we won't do it again for a while, but I think we should make the holiday an annual thing. Not ages away, just enough for us to have some private time and get our minds off of being dads. It's a good idea."

"You always think your ideas are good."

"Because they always are."

"Not at all cocky, are you?"

Another laugh rumbled from deep within Tony's chest, rippling on Peter's back as he continued to sleep façade. His face had stretched into a smile some time ago though and, unbeknownst to the 'Master Detective,' Steve had quickly noticed it and decided that he wasn't really asleep. He should have guessed sooner.

Peter never went to sleep so easily.

So he winked towards his fiancé before a hand crept towards the boy, aimed for the neck as if he were about to grab it and weaken a very dangerous opponent. Peter, oblivious to the hand, thought to himself how good he'd become at pretending to be asleep, and wondered why he hadn't spent more time doing it to hear his parent's secrets. It was so much easier than listening in when they thought he was playing.

The black locks were brushed wildly into his eyes before Steve suddenly caught his youngster's neck, tickling it as mercilessly as he would interrogate a terrorist. Shrieks of laughter erupted from the child whilst he tried to release himself, although the double attack from his billionaire father meant he had no chance of freeing himself. He was trapped between two tickling heroes.

And he loved every second of it.

"Daddies! Daddies! No tickle, no Peter!" his squeals caused a smile to stretch on Steve's face, as it had been a long time since he'd heard him squeal like a normal little boy. Too long had he been weighted under the team's responsibility. Sometimes, it was nice to just forget the world around them, forget their duties that rested within the Tower and how they were ultimately responsible for the world's survival, just to play a normal game with their son.

Tony was the first to stop tickling his son, though his fingers didn't stop stroking his wild hair into place, "Didn't Bruce get you that haircut like I asked? Remind me to book that, Steve. We can't have our Pete running around looking like an untamed little lion, can we? Everyone would think we weren't taking care of him properly."

As he spoke the billionaire began to ruffle up his locks again, his eyes sharp for any stains on the child's silk blue pyjamas or any speck of dirt on his pale cheeks. He couldn't have his Peter looking scruffy. It wasn't good for him to go to bed dirty, just as it wasn't good for them to not make him aware of hygiene and how it reflected on him as a person.

"Stop looking for dirt," Steve groaned with his forearm over his arms, suddenly on his back as if he were a dying walrus, "You're going to make him paranoid."

He smiled through the shroud around them, "No, I'll make him aware. Would you rather he be dirty or OCD clean?"

A plump pillow slammed down on the billionaire's head, not quite hard enough to hurt but enough to make his head spin a bit. He shook himself to stop the world from turning before glaring at Steve, who seemed to remain unmoved.

"Hey!"

"What? That was Pete."

"I love you Daddy."


	8. Mission

Another night in the Tower, another mission to wake the beloved heroes. Sirens went off soon after they had finally brought young Peter to rest, blaring so loudly that they thought the entire world was collapsing and they were the only people who could stop it.

In some ways, they were.

"Glad to see you're all awake," Fury commented as they slowly piled into the Conference room, sleepy eyed and weary gazed when they fumbled about for their places, "It's been a while since we had a good night emergency."

"Yeah well, I think we could've all done without one," the billionaire was still jetlagged from his holiday, so much so that he had to force his eyes open with coffee and caffeinated energy drinks. A Monster can sat in his hand at that moment, the other clasped tightly around his little boy's shoulder whilst his own was being held by Steve.

Fury felt for his team. He knew that the terrible inconvenience of their missions was one thing, but the fact that they couldn't even sleep without being disturbed was something else entirely. He would have to find some sort of system to minimise those problems, granted it was fairly difficult to determine when a threat would reveal itself.

"What's wrong this time? Terrorists, aliens, a transvestite mutant sewer baby?" Tony mused to himself, "Come on, spill the beans! I'm dying to know." The sarcasm in his voice could be cut with a knife, which Widow would have certainly supplied in her sleep-deprived, surprise taken mood, forcing them to tread lightly as she found her way towards a coffee mug.

But there were no smiles on the directors' face when he spoke, "No Tony, it's not a transvestite mutant sewer baby. It's…it's…" with nervousness he glanced at the man hanging off Stark, the man who had faced the same enemy many years ago and now would have to find his courage to face them again. Last time he'd been on that kind of mission, he got a bit chilly…

"What?" Steve asked irritably when he had finally noticed the gaze, practically blushing under his friend's intense brown eye, "What is it?"

"A HYDRA plant's been discovered nearby. We predict that it's…well, if we're not careful, the next batch of super soldiers could be finished as early as next week. And that's including safety tests that they probably won't do."

Steve's face went pale. Instantly his hands began to tremble, that familiar look of steely blue rage descending over his face whilst his brain tried to comprehend the information. HYDRA? The HYDRA he had faced? The horrifying, deadly soldiers who had been responsible for many of his friend's deaths, their children forced to lose fathers all because of a homicidal dream? Without thinking he gripped Tony's shoulder tighter, which caused a small squeak of protest from the man's lips before he fell silent again.

"Hy...hydra?" he choked, "Are you sure? I mean, how are you sure?"

"We've found some samples, and the facility they're using was recently bought under a suspicious name; suspicious name, suspicious circumstances, suspicious deaths. You can see why my superiors want this place checked out."

Tony leaned forward, if only to avoid his boyfriend's imminent vomiting, "But you don't know for sure if it's HYDRA?"

"Well…no, but we're pretty damn certain it is." The director felt ridiculous giving them the information since, for all he knew, it was as inaccurate as the British train times. He didn't know whether the facility was a super-secret, incredibly dangerous HYDRA producing plant, or a simpleton's meth lab that had been bought from a willing friend. But for whatever embarrassment he was feeling, it made Steve feel a little better knowing that nothing was certain.

"So why have you woken us up so early?" the growl came from the shadowed corner of the room, where a very grumpy Bruce had tried to keep some sense of tranquillity between the muddle of misinformation. He rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands, yawning through his haze in an attempt to keep with it.

"Ah, that's the big question," Fury leaned down to the mahogany desk in front of him, polished to a near sheen by Tony's handmaids and kept in top condition for any of his business associates. His hands pressed against it like he couldn't hold himself up, "My superiors want this place checked out, but none of us are small enough – or subtle enough," he raised his eyebrows towards Stark as if making about, although they couldn't focus on it before he had started speaking again, "So they've decided to make this a mission for just one of us."

It was then that the director turned his gaze. It looked at only one person in the room, the one person who had been selected for the mission and who would have to brave unknown dangers for the good of the world. Everything depended on that single teammate and, if he refused, all would be lost.

Peter.

"What?! NO!" the table was almost upturned as Tony leapt to his feet, gripping his boy so tightly to his chest that Fury thought he would disintegrate, "You can't be asking him to go in there! He's too young!"

Tears built up in the billionaire's eyes when he spoke. It wasn't fair that it was his son forced to go through those horrors, that it was his little boy who had to risk his life so that others could sleep peacefully. He didn't care that Peter was rich, famous and powerful; nothing mattered except that he was healthy, and could have all the advantages that other American kids had.

But there wasn't anything he could do about it – Fury's superiors had made their mind up, which meant that Peter would have to brave the perils that they were too cowardly to face.

"You…you can't seriously be alright with this Nick. You love Pete!" Steve's voice was choked with emotion, like he couldn't imagine his toddler being forced into such a situation. They weren't invincible just because they were the Avengers; each day they became more breakable, but slowly. It was only Peter who had the vibrancy they wished they had. What would happen if he were to lose that?

"Of course I do. I love Pete just as much as we all do," the director's hand fell forward to stroke his cheek, so soft that his rough fingers felt out of place, "But it's final. He's got to do this for the world. I promise you Tony; we will never, ever let anything happen to him. You have my word."

Tony barked back a reply before he rushed out of the room, toddler in arm and the room stunned behind him, "Yeah, I'm sure Coulson had that word too."


	9. Prepare

Peter was prepared in less than an hour. Equipped with his cloak and a few choice weapons, the child looked as though he were about to go assassinate someone rather than a 'simple' infiltration. His wild locks brushed into his eyes as he looked up at his father, that smile on his face to try and comfort him, a hand placed firmly on the billionaire's shoulder to give him some sort of peace.

But Tony was far from calm, "I can't believe this Steve. I can't believe they'd put our boy – our _little_ boy – in harm's way, just to save their own asses. Can't we do something about this?!" with great care he buckled another grenade into the boy's belt, looped through a selection of other weapons that they had deemed usable.

Steve sat in the corner of their bedroom, watching whilst the man he loved prepped the boy he adored. He knew that their situation was stupid, that their whole world could have been destroyed if Peter made so much as one wrong move, but he didn't think that there was anything they could do. It was for the good of the universe. It was a danger they took every day.

His mood had darkened somewhat as he imagined Peter in such a place. When he had sat upon that comfy, familiar bed of ease and tranquillity, he had been in a relatively agreeable frame of mind, set on the path ahead and how they could make their son safer through his journey. But slowly that mind-set had waned, so much so that Steve couldn't even imagine his boy making it out of the plant without horrendous injuries. A tear appeared in his eyes whilst he thought about Peter limping through the HYDRA plant, surrounded by blood and death as he tried to make his escape.

"I don't think so," he replied with his head in his hands, "We have to make him as prepared for it as we can. If he's quiet, he'll make it through without injury."

"Don't try to tell me that – we both know it's complete crap. Pete's our son!" the billionaire hissed the last words as if it would make more of an impact, granted it only served in scaring the boy and making him look at them with frightened eyes. Steve looked up to reply to his boyfriend and, after catching the intense fear on his child's face, instantly changed tactics.

He couldn't let Peter see he was scared too. It was a daddy's job to give his children courage, especially where their sons were concerned. Once upon a time the super soldier had dreamed about being a father, although his dreams had ranged to a collection of girls and no sons. He wouldn't have wished his genetics on a boy.

"Hey soldier, don't get frightened," he purred, "You're going to do great out there, I know you will. Daddy and me will be talking to you through the earpiece every step of the way, so don't take it out unless you absolutely have to, okay?" Peter nodded through his racing heartbeat, both hands clasped by his fathers as they sat in that warm room, amongst the clutter of Tony's recent experiments and the boxes of Steve officially moving in, "I'm so proud of you Pete. You're such a brave little boy."

"And you're going to be really careful, aren't you?" Peter looked up to his father, crouched down so closely to his face that he could practically smell his breath and taste his goatee, "You have to be so careful Pete, you really do. I don't know what we'd do if you got hurt out there."

The grip on his left hand tightened. In Tony's eyes danced those emotions that he tried not to let show; the fear, regret and fury he felt at his child's indoctrination, and the sharp sting of pain he felt whenever he let him wander into the unknown. Peter understood that he couldn't do anything. His father just didn't understand that.

So with a breath to calm his heart, the child spoke as strongly as he could, "I will safe. You talk on piece and I talk back. We family! Family together, so Peter come home soon." He squeezed their individual hands for good measure, remembering the talk he had with Hawkeye fondly whilst the fathers looked at him with pride. They couldn't imagine a stronger, more amazing child than their little boy, though he had been the only child they ever had the pleasure of caring for.

Just as the child pecked their noses and adjusted the red and yellow outfit around him – specially made with a big star on the front and an American flag stitched on his arm – Thor strode into the room, more furious than the heroes had ever seen him before. His nostrils flared with the message of battle, his hands gripped tightly over his legendary hammer whilst his gaze locked onto Steve's.

If looks could kill, the super soldier's funeral would be next on the agenda.

"I have just had the plans for the HYDRA plant," he explained through what seemed like a haze of anger, "The only way that young Peter can make it through is to encase himself in the ventilation system, and even then he could become exposed by body heat."

There was anger in his voice as he spoke. He knew that he was bearing bad news and that the heroes wanted to hear nothing about it, especially as they were trying to calm their little boy – it was Fury's fault that he was put in such a delicate situation, even though he knew that the God was good with smashing things and breaking them into little pieces.

Tony let out a shaky breath before he turned back to his boyfriend, "Are we sure about this? We could run, Steve. We could take him and run away as far as we could go."

But he saw that look in the super soldier's eyes. He saw that hurt, pain and anger he felt over HYDRA, that same expression he wore as he watched countless men die at their hands and leave their children fatherless. Peter was the only one who could stop that vicious memory from tearing through his thoughts. He could stop the age-old hurt that had plagued his father for years.

"No. We have to let him do this," Steve turned to smile at his little boy, who had that look of determination in his eyes, "He'll do great out there."

"I will save world. We family, daddies."


	10. Sneaking

Tony and Steve sat on the edge of their SHIELD aircraft seats, drumming their fingers against the cool metal desk underneath them. After allowing their boy to go into such a dangerous mission alone – not by choice and certainly not without a fight – they were anxious to get some news from him, even if it was just a quick tuning in from his earpiece to tell them he was alright.

The spacious monstrosity had been equipped with new gadgets, most notably the giant monitor that Steve thought would be 'perfect' for recording and showing future SHIELD staff how they went about things, but would serve for the time being as their only connection to Peter. Their son's picture stood proudly on screen like a majestic eagle; they looked at it with sadness in their eyes, remembering how tightly they had hugged him before he went off on the mission.

"Should we speak to him first?" it was Bruce who broke the silence, the team's eyes turned to him as he gulped and tried to focus his point, "He might not know it's on. He might just be waiting for us to start talking before he does, you know? It's his first mission alone."

Again the team were faced with that reality. They thought about how Peter had put on a brave face to make his fathers proud yet, inside, he must have been shivering like a leaf at the thought of his task. He was only a little boy. He couldn't take such responsibility alone.

The plant wasn't what Peter expected at all. Quietly he skulked about the outer rim of it, noting how the barbed wire fence had several weaknesses and would likely disintegrate after having been rusted for so long, before he finally forced himself to take a proper look at the building. It stood at a staggering hundred foot tall, decorated only by steel plates whilst the regular rectangle shape held no sort of imagination to it. That sort of place usually sat within the pages of storybooks, the ones where unsuspecting children were dragged to their demise by a kindly face, or perhaps their parents lost them to the ravages of disease.

With ease he slipped through the fence's largest defect, carefully navigating his way through unkempt grassland that seemed to have grown around the plant. The long blades tickled his nose as he attempted to camouflage himself, although it was hard to do that when his suit was red and yellow.

Of all the things for Tony to have insisted on, why did it have to be colour codes?

The child felt fear strike his heart. He saw the entrance further in front of him, closely guarded by two of the largest thugs he had ever laid eyes on. Their shaved heads could have shined with the sunlight and confused birds, their huge arms large enough to crush soda cans as they stood with impatience at the door. Even that seemed to be high security; for each guard there were at least seven locks on the thing, and a generous amount of chains to make sure it didn't open without someone's awareness.

He pressed his ear whilst keeping his head down, peering through the yellow-green blades as he spoke quietly, "Daddies? Daddies? Peter here. See two men – big men, scary – but at door. Can't get through door. Other way?"

The team anxiously leaned forward to the plans in front of them. They were blueprints of the plant in all its glory, leaving nothing to the imagination as they tried to direct the child on his way. It was a precarious situation they found themselves in; they knew that if they made a mistake, it could mean the death of Peter and many other innocents. They couldn't let that happen.

Avengers weren't there to retaliate, but to prevent things from happening in the first place.

Peter crept through the sodden grass as if in a trance, his eyes constantly locked on the two men in front of him. They were a good eighteen foot away but, if he made a sudden move or noise, they could have instantly seen him through the cover. They weren't like the villains in his cartoons at home. They would kill him if they got hold of him, perhaps even torture him with HYDRA before he finally met his end.

And if he knew thugs well, they would have probably sent recordings of the ordeal to his fathers, threatening the same on them whilst they tried to get through their mourning.

"Careful Pete – you're going to see a little opening with a grate on it, I'd say in the next five seconds," Bruce's voice muttered through his earpiece. The child looked up to see exactly what he was talking about; it was a tiny vent that sat just above a green rubbish skip, closed to keep the horrifying smell of rotten rat carcass in, "You've got to move that grate and slip through there, then you'll be inside. From then on we can tell you exactly where you're going."

Darkness surrounded Tony's thoughts as his stomach did somersaults, his tongue firmly clamped between his teeth so he didn't cry out. How could he have let his son into that situation? How could he have watched whilst his only child got into that black car; the last car he might see alive if things didn't go well? In his head, the billionaire thought about a grand funeral for the one thing he loved more than anything, complete with a white coffin and expensive crystal cherubs lining the pews, his husband and him weeping as they watched their angel being laid to rest. He wouldn't have that horrifying thought become a reality.

Which was why he began to take over the conversation, "Use your powers to unscrew the grate – if I'm right, there's at least four separate screws. Check the corners."

Peter's eyes turned blood red when he heard his father's voice, his eagerness to please in the way of his fear, "Yes Daddy." The screws began to twist off independently as he moved his hands in a circular motion, like they were nothing but playthings and he was the grand game master.

"Be careful soldier," Steve's voice interrupted Tony's rant about grates, "You're entering enemy territories now. We'll be on the line throughout this mission – you run into a problem, you contact us immediately. Do you understand me, soldier?"

Again, the child blushed with pride at his fathers' nickname, his voice stronger and more determined than it had ever been before, "Yes Captain Daddy. Peter be careful!"


	11. The Plant

Peter silently shimmied his way through the vents, his eyes never dulling as he listened to his team. They told him everything he passed in such exact detail, such amazing precision that for a moment he wondered if he had a built in camera on his suit, although soon he decided to just focus on his mission and query his fathers later.

"He's just got through the last security checkpoint," Bruce mentioned before he jumped from the seat, striding over to the big television like he'd just thought up a revolutionary idea, "It should be safe enough for us to turn on the tracker. Fury, press that button for me." Instantly the director slammed the red button in front of him, with so much enthusiasm that it could have been making him rich. A blip appeared on the screen in front of them – nothing big, just a flashing red dot to indicate Peter was still alive, still fighting with that courage only an Avenger could have.

"He's right over what we assume to be the main producing plant," the director mused, "If we're right, he could be reaching the computer systems in as little as twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes? With HYDRA crawling all over the place? That's way too long," Steve's face was flushed with anger as he spoke, the very thought of his child in such a dangerous place causing somersaults in his stomach. Without thinking Tony reached over to stroke his shoulder, lovingly gazing at him to show it would all be alright.

They both needed to keep calm. One hysterical cry down the microphone and Peter could have gotten scared, perhaps enough to cry out himself.

The leader smiled at his fiancé before he focused back on the plans, "Alright soldier, what do you see now?"

Peter looked down at the scene in front of him. Through a little grate he spied eight large men in the room below, their faces coated in sweat as they started to pile strange-looking syringes on the ground. Each one had a label on it – the child could only spy 'H' and 'Y' letters from his location, though it seemed to be enough evidence for their HYDRA involvement. With caution he brought his little finger to his ear again, pressing it gently like the men in the metallic room could hear him.

"Needles on floor. More big men; one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight," like he was in a classroom he began counting on his fingers, despite his ease at remembering such small numbers and his aptitude for mathematics. He didn't want to miss out a single detail. He didn't want to be the reason his first mission went south, especially since Fury seemed to be counting on him.

Steve wanted to cry when he imagined the scene playing in front of the boy, with vicious looking men coating the floor in drugs and a multitude of thugs swearing to high heaven, "Okay Pete, what else is there? Is there something you can move to get their attention?" the child's eyes flicked up to a smallish table in the corner of the room, laden with all sorts of drugs equipment that he couldn't identify. It looked to be made of glass…

"Yes!" his exclamation echoed through the vents. The men looked up. Everything seemed to go in slow motion for the child as he ducked, praying that they hadn't seen him and would soon get on with their illegal practices. Every shaven head pointed directly to the grate as if it were melting, granted they weren't too sure what they expected it to do.

It was the largest man who eventually got back to work. Throbbing with all manner of muscles, he looked about as vascular as that old Popeye cartoon Peter had watched, that ancient programme that had once entertained his father and brought smiles to middle-aged men's faces. His clothes left little to the imagination, an eyesore that Tony would have wanted shipped away to the back of his closet, never to be retrieved from the dark abyss of his fashion disasters; a torn vest shirt with blood stains splattered generously across it, completed by a matching pair of ripped jeans with chains for decoration. His shoes didn't look like anything the child had seen before. They were more like black bin bags than anything else, granted the boy hadn't worn anything less than designer brands or the odd alternative ranges.

"Pete, are you okay? Your heart rate went up a bit there; did something happen?" the billionaire tried to push all fear out of voice but, when dealing with something so abnormal and terrifying, it was difficult to do that. "Can you hear me?"

"Daddy has be quiet. Peter almost caught!" his scold was more like a heavenly message, dancing softly on the golden rays of God as it reached Tony's ears. With ease the child pushed the table he was looking at over, its contents broken on the floor more quickly than Steve could have hoped for.

"The fuck was that Roy?! You were supposed to be watching this stuff!"

"I was! I don't know – it must've fallen over or some shit, how am I supposed to know when it's gonna tip?!"

"You're the one in charge of watching it, so that ain't my problem. Get someone in here to clean this mess up. And I'm talking pronto Roy, else there's gonna be new meat on the menu tonight."

Peter held a breath as the ginger man ran out of the room, his eyes as frightened as the child felt. Perhaps those men were truly just puppets? Perhaps there was really a mastermind behind their wrongdoings, and they couldn't stop working until they had fulfilled his sordid wishes. He wanted to believe such stories but found it difficult when he gazed down, watching as the larger man gripped his assistant by the throat and began threatening his children's lives.

Unnerving silence droned on in the conference room. The minutes ticked by whilst they waited for Peter to tune back in, so agonisingly slowly that Steve thought he had actually gone back in time. Tony clicked his tongue nervously against his teeth as he drummed his fingers against the table again, not caring whether anyone found it annoying, not worried about being scolded by his beloved boyfriend or the pre-occupied Fury. Like a parent awaiting test results, Bruce had found himself anxiously pacing the floor just in front of the monitor screen, locked onto the little blip that showed his beloved nephew. Why had he suddenly gone silent? What was going on? Had he been caught?

"Daddies?" they all jumped when Peter's voice came back on the speakers, "Team? Here now – big com-puters here. Which one click?" in the plant, the child had finally come across what they were looking for, granted it wasn't as grand as Steve had made it out to be. Rather than a thousand computer screens lined up together, row after row of perfect symmetry with a thousand HYDRA working behind them, it was a simple, archaic little screen hooked up to what seemed to be a homemade monitor. The worn chrome of what had once been a grand masterpiece threatened to disintegrate to the boy's touch, shivering under his gaze as he half-lidded his eyes and began looking for the power switch.

"You're such a good boy Pete!" Tony breathed out a sigh of relief through his teeth. He could see the faces around him highlighted with amazement, yet he didn't say anything in case the boy came off topic. He had to focus. It wasn't an experiment now; it was the real deal, and Peter needed to remember every little detail.

"That's great work soldier, I'm proud of you," the boy felt a glow in his cheeks at Steve's praise but they moved swiftly onwards, "Now, Fury's going to talk you through what you've got to do next. Have you got the, erm…the floppy disk?" his eyes narrowed as he spied the word in front of him, hastily scrawled by Bruce as a way of keeping the conversation going, although whatever bad feelings he had were negated by Peter's confirmation, "Good, then I'm going to pass you to Fury. Well done soldier. Now you keep yourself safe, okay? I want you home as soon as possible."


	12. Going Haywire

With the help of his favourite SHIELD director, Peter had soon hacked into the computer system and was rifling through the men's dirty little secrets. He didn't understand much of what was in front of him; it was all formulas and lists of ingredients he hadn't heard of before, much of which were being supplied by a man named 'Ramon.'

As he made his way through the bytes of digital information, Tony and Steve were about ready to burst with pride. Their son – their three year old, recently brought to earth little boy – had not only infiltrated a base that they had virtually no idea about, but had managed to enter the final stages of his mission without even being caught.

"He's got to be careful now, he's in their mainframe," Fury mused to himself but not loudly enough for the others to hear, since they were too deeply rooted in their pride to be torn back down to earth. What kind of man would he be to destroy that state? They were floating together in a mix of happiness, relief and peace, knowing that soon their boy would be on his way back to their arms with some new found self-confidence.

Peter leaned forward as he stumbled upon a locked file. With ease he hacked through the low-level firewall in front of him, slipping past the security that those men thought they had and making a new path straight to the Microsoft document, which was quickly thrown in front of him in all its glory.

_Day 1; first day in the bath-salt plant. These puppies been made illegal, and now I'm gonna use them to make myself rich. Guys aren't all that smart but that doesn't matter; they shift things well and that's all that counts in my book. They don't want to get in my way. Heard that the Stark Tower is near here, about an hour on the motorway, so if I need some extra cash I can just go and take his kid for ransom. That little bastard – Stark would get that kid's ear before I sent him how much I wanted._

The boy's face fell. Suddenly he was shivering, too nauseous to continue with his light reading as he turned away from the computer. He was in horrible danger. If he was caught, one of the men had already decided that he was worth his weight in gold, but only if they liberated him from an ear and kept his father on a tight leash.

"Pete, are you okay? Your heart rate's spiking," Bruce's voice came over his earpiece but the child couldn't speak, could barely breathe as he began to hyperventilate. Suddenly the grey room around him felt enclosed, the barrels by the walls like giant guards that kept him locked in place, the flickering light above like a gun pointed towards his head.

Tony suddenly stood from his seat in the conference room, striding towards the monitor with his jaw set and an almost crazed look in his eye, "Come on Pete, relax. You're safe. You're perfectly safe so long as you do exactly as we say without fail, okay?" his precious son didn't seem to hear him; instead of the coherent replies the billionaire had become used to he began to hear pants, as if someone was choking the child.

His fellow scientist leaned forward to a small keyboard in front of him. With expert skill he started to tap away at it, and soon enough the entire document Peter had read was presented in front of them, exposed like that girl Tony had once met on a friend's stag night. Steve bit back a scream as his eyes raked through the words, each one with a bite so fierce he thought he would cry.

_I've had dreams about selling that kid on to the Mafia or something. Get the money from Stark, put a bullet in between his eyes and keep his little bastard all for myself. Imagine the dough you'd get from giving someone him – he's like, a really wanted piece on the black market. Something about powers or smarts or some shit like that. All I know is, if I get my hands on him, he's sold so fast it won't be funny. Well, maybe when I cut his ear off._

"Get him out." Tony's voice was so quiet they didn't know what he said at first, but soon his fists balled up at his sides and his jaws clenched tightly together. The director sat back in his seat for the coming onslaught.

"What?"

"GET MY SON OUT OF THERE!" he leapt forward suddenly, knocking Bruce away from the keyboard as he began to download the rest of the files and speak with a shaking voice, "Alright Pete, that's enough now. Get back in the vents and make your way back outside. Stay hidden until me and Captain Daddy get there, then we'll make sure you're safe."

Peter's trembling hands fumbled for the nearest barrel but, when he tried to climb on it…

_CRASH._

"What the Hell was that? I thought you were watching the computer?" a voice echoed from the locked door behind Peter, so close that he thought the man was breathing right down his neck. Without thinking, the child leapt behind the now fallen barrel and hid behind its beaten frame, the thin aluminium all that protected him from the eyes of the Warlord.

The door crashed open. He managed to whisper a small, "I love you team," before he crushed the earpiece with his powers, a hope in his heart that it wouldn't be the last words he said to them. He couldn't see the men but he could hear them quite clearly, and the dog that they had brought to scope the room for intruders. It sounded big – the sort of pet you'd have if you lived in a bad neighbourhood, or perhaps the sort that you would buy if you were worried about an ex-boyfriend coming back.

"Peter? PETER?" Tony screamed once he realised the line was dead, the only restraint he had from his team and equally terrified boyfriend, "What the Hell is going on? We've got to get to him!" that wild look in his eyes said it all; the billionaire was fearful that he had just spoken to his son for the last time, that their brief life together had been cut short by a mission gone wrong. He knew that the Avengers would kill him. He didn't want to admit that he had been right this time, since it meant that his precious boy was taken and they weren't ever getting him back.

"Suit up guys," Fury's voice came through the din of noise. Whereas his friends were in a sudden state of panic brought on by the loss of their teammate, his was eerily calm, as if nothing was the matter and he had just woken up to the last of the milk being used.

"What?" Steve managed to croak through his haze. The director looked at him with a determination in his eyes, like he was facing a challenge that couldn't potentially destroy them.

"We're saving Pete. Now."


	13. The Rescue

The team were at the plant in under an hour. Daring glares were held between them and the men guarding the door, foolishness forcing them to stand their ground, as if they had a chance at battling back the Avengers and saving their precious drugs unit.

Steve tried to coerce them at first, "You can stand down now if you want. No one will think less of you as men. You've got to see that we're doing this for the good of mankind, for the good of all your kids or families." But it fell on deaf ears as the men stood rigid to their spots, eyes transfixed on each team member like they were almost expected. Rage gripped Ironman's heart. He'd had enough of that stupidity.

So soon after their brief dealing with guards – and it was brief, considering Tony's anger had caused him to knock them out – they raged through the grey corridors of the derelict plant, a battle cry on their lips whilst they seemed to tear the place apart. Whoever was foolish enough to face them found themselves knocked to the ground quickly after, though unlike them the Avengers didn't finish the job. They hadn't come to spill blood. It was not for breaking up their bath salt manufacturing that they had shown their faces, but to save the precious child they had sent in to do it, the boy they loved and had let into such a dangerous situation without backup. Tony wanted to tear someone's throat out.

He settled for knocking them to the floor.

Each time a man fell towards the frozen concrete beneath them, he seemed to choke out something similar to, 'Roy, the boss!" for whatever reason they called to this Roy the team didn't know, but they were determined to find out as they ravaged their way through the facility, hearts set on finding Peter before any harm could come to him.

Anymore harm. They had to remember where they were.

Steve crushed another man's hand under his foot as he stared down the monotonous grey hallway, wondering where they could have taken his son. The clang of his boot on the ground danced almost rhythmically with each step he took, the look of a crazy person in his eyes rather than a calm and collected leader. His throat was dry when he turned to Tony, who was busying himself with the last of the syringe-workers by that time.

"We have to find Pete."

"Really? I thought we were here because we were running low on bath salts," the billionaire's sarcasm cut deeply like a knife but, due to their situation and the tears that were likely building in his eyes, Steve allowed it to slide for that one incident. He would probably remark to it later when they had another heated fight, although those thoughts were far from his mind as they stood amongst the drug's equipment.

"Where do you think he got to?"

Widow was the one who spoke next, the only person in the team that could think straight and not let her emotions cloud her thoughts, "Let's check the computer room. He'll probably be there."

Her voice was hopeful. Instantly the team rushed towards the locked door, moving as a single unit rather than the individual people they were, remembering the boy's impassioned 'I love you' before he had vanished from the system. That single memory fuelled them enough to crack on with their rescue, if only to make sure that it wouldn't be the final 'I love you' they heard from his lips.

For Steve and Tony, the tranquillity of their holiday-induced state was over. Reality had come crashing back down to them almost as quickly as they had stepped off that jet, the nightmare that was their superhero existence a constant threat on their family life. Why couldn't they have just taken Peter away for a while? It would have done the child some good to get his mind off of physics, perhaps even off the entire world and actually focus on being a kid for once.

But they knew, without the combined strength of everything in the team's willpower, Peter would never let that happen. He was too set on making his fathers' proud to relax.

They came to the door quickly, at the end of a long stretch of corridor and locked with at least seven different mechanisms. It took Tony all of one swipe to break them, his suit scratched with the imprint of what used to be padlocks and some of the paint flaking to the floor, but he hardly cared as they burst through the thin steel entrance, looking frantically around the tiny room.

What they saw would haunt them for the rest of their lives.

The computer was broken. Its monitor looked as though it had been torn straight through, the screen hanging by a thread whilst Tony observed several large cracks on it. The barrel it had sat on was completely ruined – beaten, broken and not likely to contain anything again, its shredded aluminium frame lay in tatters on the ground, the greenish tint of what was once a proud paintjob scratched by a fierce struggle. All the other drums seemed to have been thrown on their sides, except one, which had also been split straight down the middle and looked as though it had once stood proudly against the wall. A small, open ventilation grate was the last notable thing. It must have been how Peter had crept into the room.

So the fallen barrel must have been the crash they heard…

Tony imagined the scene in front of him. He saw the ghost of his little boy jumping behind the barrel for cover, and then two more spectres come in after the crash. They held some sort of dog with them; a huge Rottweiler perhaps, or maybe a Doberman puppy that was nearly full size. Its collar was on the floor right beside a small pool of blood. The billionaire didn't want to imagine who the blood belonged to, or the connotations of what could happen if his son was hurt.

"Hey," Steve leaned over the grip his boyfriend's hand, "It's okay…it's okay, we'll find him. We'll search the entire place if we have to, top to bottom, back to front. We'll get Peter out of here before anything else can happen." The confidence in his voice was refreshing, though the comforting hand on Tony's couldn't be felt through his armour. For a moment he wished he was exposed, longing for the skin-on-skin contact of his fiancé, craving the warmth that emanated from his beautiful lover.

"I know we will."

Peter wasn't too far away from that scene. He had found more cover after his clash with the titans, forcing himself to forget the fact he'd scattered them with his powers and broken nearly everything in sight. With quick stealth he had found himself back in the ventilation system, his small body like a worm writhing through a metal-cased hole as he made his way back outside, where he didn't know there was a helicopter waiting for him.

_Want daddies, _he thought, but he couldn't say it, _have to go home. Have to finish mission. Daddies…love you._


	14. Treats

Peter found his way outside with ease, which was more than could be said for his fathers. They spent at least four hours searching for the little alien, checking every crevice and crack for a trace of where he could be, when he was simply sitting outside in the helicopter. He daren't go back inside the plant to get the team. Those men might have found him again, and he didn't want to resort to his powers.

He had thrown enough people away from him. Now was the time that Peter could look back at all his achievements and smile, remember that he'd completed a feat in the eyes of many, especially the two men who mattered most to him.

By the time Tony remerged from the building, his eyes were red with unshed tears. The sky thundered with a storm that almost reflected his ungodly mood, the ground inflicted with bullet-like raindrops whilst he tried to walk through the grass, mind on matters other than his hair being sodden or the fact that his suit was getting wet. They hadn't found his precious Peter, and he wondered for a moment if they ever would. With a great sigh he hauled himself towards the helicopter, where he was sure he had stored an emergency case of wine.

"Daddy!" he looked up, sure that the world was playing a cruel joke on him. Through the mist of the rain around him, he saw a small little blob by the large bulk of the helicopter, its tiny frame nearly unnoticeable when compared to the metal monstrosity yet somehow making itself known, as if it were an angelic messenger to the billionaire.

"Pete?" his voice was small when he spoke, mainly because he couldn't let himself believe something so wonderful, "Pete, is that you?" as cautious as a baby taking its first steps, Tony moved forward to the helicopter he had arrived him, the place they had planned their infiltration and tried to keep themselves calm. It couldn't have been his little boy jumping there – he was still trapped in the plant somewhere, waiting for his fathers to uncover him so they could go home.

But he didn't have much time to think on that image. Instantly the blob pelted towards him, at a speed that might have been considered reckless or dangerous within the confines of their Tower yet was welcome there. Tony rushed forward was his arms open, a single tear in his eyes as he enveloped his son in them. The cool metal of his suit brushed against Peter's cheeks but he didn't care; he was back in the arms of his hero again, and the failure of his mission didn't seem to matter so much.

"We were so worried about you," the billionaire admitted quietly, "We thought you'd gotten hurt or had run off. Where were you?" the child looked up at his father for a moment, the love emanating in his eyes like nothing Tony had ever seen before.

"I make men go away and get plans. Hid in vents so couldn't find me. Came here, helicopter here! Daddies here! You save Peter," his excitement made the tycoon want to cry, if only because he didn't think he'd ever hear it again. Too long had been spent apart from his little boy; if the superiors thought they were letting him on another mission alone, they had another thing coming.

Pride burst through Stark's chest like a flower blooming through winter's frost, the memory of the boy's enthusiasm that morning enough to bring a smile to his face. Without thinking he put his son back in the helicopter, his hands fumbling with the belt buckle as he went into fatherly auto-pilot and radioed Steve on his helmet.

"He's with you then?" the super soldier's voice was tinged by relief, the sort that couldn't be found in most people, "How's he feeling? Does he have any bruises? Is there anything he wants? We've got a bottle of water underneath my seat if he's feeling thirsty, and I think there are some snacks-"

"Steve-"

"Maybe I ate those? I can't remember. Check under the-"

"Steve, will you list-"

"There are definitely some chocolate digestives in Clint's bag. Open it up and take a-"

"STEVE!" instantly the line fell quiet and Peter looked up, torn from his fiddling of the belt buckle at his father's outburst, "He's fine; no bumps, bruises, lumps or scratches. And I think the only thing he wants right now is for us to get home, so you guys better make it back here double-time. You know how impatient he gets."

They shared a mutual smile for a moment as they thought of their son, how he became so agitated when left waiting or forced to sit still. It was one of the many traits he shared with Tony and, in the super soldier's opinion, one of the cutest things he saw in the little boy, albeit frustrating when they were trying to get a nice picture of him. He faintly recalled a time when they had tried to take a nice family photo and the boy had constantly moved the camera with his powers, resulting in a few snapshots of their faces twisted in exasperation. They hadn't tried to take another one.

Perhaps it was time they did…

"Okay, just let me get them all together and we'll make our way out there. Is…is Pete okay to talk to me?" he spoke as though he had upset the boy, like he'd done something that would raise Peter's ire and make him unwilling to chat. With a smile on his face Tony fitted the helmet on his son, careful not to let him see some of his more recent battle recordings as Steve's voice took control.

"Captain Daddy?" Peter's eyes welled with tears when he heard the man's voice, so close and yet so far, "Okay?"

"Hey soldier – yeah, we're all okay down here. Few bruises from those thugs but nothing to worry about, is it? We can handle them!" his voice held a note of triumph to it, something that Peter had come to both love and respect during their time together, "How are you feeling? You didn't get too hurt when we lost contact, did you?"

Vaguely he remembered that the incident was questionable, since the earpiece had been in perfect working order beforehand. He had forced Bruce to take extra care with the thing, making it fit snugly into his son's ear without so much as a hint of discomfort, his eyes sharp to anything that could interfere with it or make it so Peter couldn't hear them.

But Peter's face was becoming hot in that tight little helmet, and his words were almost breathless when he replied, "Men came with dog but Peter make them go. They fell when left. Ran away." The Ironman helmet's padding was starting to make him sweat, the computer screen in front hurting his eyes as he strained to get the words out.

Steve wished he was heartless enough to keep talking.

"That's my little soldier. Okay, we'll be at the helicopter in about ten minutes, after we've cleaned up this mess. Tell Daddy that I said to give you some water," his voice lowered for a second as he added, "And there are some chocolate biscuits in Clint's bag. I'm sure he won't miss two or three, will he?" if Peter could see the smirk on his father's face, he would have been in a fit of giggles.

But instead he just bade his father a lengthened goodbye and passed the helmet back to Tony, breathing heavily when the cool air hit his nostrils. Relief circled as his lungs filled with the stormy oxygen around him and, whilst he admired how it had thoroughly soaked his father, he imagined how much longer he could have stood the cold.

Probably not long due to his suit, which had been made extremely thin and flexible in light of his missions. Tony gave him a warm smile before he reached up behind him, where Clint had tried to stash his bag and the cache of chocolate treats in an old compartment, one that had been made practically invisible with the helicopter's black interior.

"Suppose he thought I didn't see him hide this," the man purred as he liberated a long white packet from the folds of the JD bag, tied perfectly with a piece of red string and looking suspiciously like a present, "Wouldn't hurt him to give you a few. It's not like he needs anymore treats."

Just as the child went to take his first bite of the slightly melted biscuit, Tony found himself sighing, "I'm so glad you're safe Pete; from now on, no more missions without either me or Captain Daddy. I don't care if they're scoping, infiltration or full-out fighting – you don't go on a mission unless you've got one of us with you, do you understand me?" Peter gave him a nod as chocolate dribbled down his chin, though he wasn't really listening to the words so much as the sternness of his voice. His father meant what he said. He wouldn't be allowed on a mission alone until he was a little older, more mature, perhaps even more equipped to deal with the connotations of a solo assignment. "Good. I'm proud of you though. You made us look great out there, and you didn't get hurt either."

"I love you Daddy."

A shaky breath was released from Tony's lips, curved in smile whilst he replied, "I know Pete; I love you too."


	15. Christmas Time

Tony had thought on the holiday thing. As they flew over the huge expanse of the ocean, laughing lightly to each other whilst they kept a close eye on their ever-curious Peter, the billionaire had been far away in his mind. Christmas was getting close. It was the month after next that the Holiday session would be on them, and Stark wasn't so sure that he wanted theirs interrupted.

"Hey," he smiled at Steve when he came out of the bathroom, the familiar look of thoughtfulness on his face after an intensely hot shower, "I've been thinking."

"That's never a good sign," the super soldier pointed out as he clambered onto the comfy mattress, completely serious apart from that breaking grin on his features, twisting them into an inane beam that Tony hadn't quite said was unattractive. With his own smile he swatted the man with his pillow, but returned to their conversation a few seconds later.

"I was just thinking about the month after next – Christmas."

"What about it?" Steve's hands were busy with the duvet as he spoke, since he could never find a comfortable position without wrangling their sheets first. The artificial lamp light stretched over his face in a way Tony thought was amazing, the perfect photo opportunity for any middle-aged woman's bed catalogue, although he tried to focus himself through the growing distractions.

That being said, he did have an incredible urge to kiss his fiancé, "We always get called away at inconvenient times. Remember my last birthday?" Steve nodded in confirmation, remembering the incident involving a crazed gunman and several ancient relics, "So this year I was thinking, instead of having the team in the Tower and celebrating here, we could take them all to one of my old cabins in the mountains."

For a moment, Steve didn't say anything. His ocean blue eyes stared deeply into Tony's chocolate brown ones, as if searching for a hint of sarcasm or any implication that he was joking, before he sat back against the headboard of their bed and sighed. It was a long sigh. The billionaire had heard it many times before, usually on the lips of Pepper after one of his outrageous business schemes.

A few seconds later he finally replied, "That's probably one of the best ideas you've ever come up with Tony, but I don't know if we can do it."

"Why?" the billionaire had to admit he was taken aback by the confession, yet he wouldn't allow himself to get side-tracked, "We're the Avengers, we can do what we want."

"That's not the point. You know as well as I do that if we leave, people could get hurt. What if something happens while we're off having fun? These people depend on us for safety," with a sweep of his muscular arm, Steve gestured to the closed curtains behind them, where normally the windows let them have a full view of the wild nightlife below. His jaw was set deeply in his face as he spoke, like he wouldn't let himself show weakness in front of his billionaire boyfriend.

"And what about Pete, hm?" silence descended between them. A tension rose where there had once been euphoria, the pure pleasure of being back home enough to keep them sated, "You forget our son deserves a good Christmas?"

Instantly Steve wanted to sew the man's lips together, tie a belt around his mouth or perhaps even sell him on eBay; anything to get him to be quiet and not touch upon tender subjects. The super soldier knew that their son deserved a good Christmas, the best that they were able to provide. But he couldn't risk other's safety just to make his son smile.

"I know he does Tony. It's just…it's just not possible with our jobs, okay? I wish it was, but it's not."

A look of pure defeat crept across Steve's features, throwing every witty reply or scathing remark Tony had out of the window. The ocean blue eyes he loved darkened in sadness, the pale complexion he adored seemed to dull in its vibrancy as he gazed about their dimly lit room, giving in to the fact that they couldn't make plans like other parents could. They weren't a normal family, and their poor little Peter was paying for it.

"Look at me." Stark's order fell on deaf ears – Steve continued to gaze around their room with no sighs of stopping, yet he couldn't help shaking his head at the thoughts. What good would they be as fathers if they couldn't even celebrate Christmas normally?

It would be Peter's second Christmas with them, but the first time they had actually done anything to mark the occasion. The first time they had been called away on a mission, one that meant they would be away for the entirety of the season and would have to leave their sweet Peter behind, though he hadn't held a grudge when they came back. Instead the child had given his confident smile, thrown his arms around his fathers before welcoming them home, like nothing was the matter and he didn't even care about the missed opportunity. The memory made Steve want to cry.

"I said look at me." That time the super soldier turned his head, if only to give Tony a peek at his slowly building tears and warn him off the subject. Without hesitation, the billionaire brought his hand to rest on his lover's forearm, lying on the cool duvet beneath them like a freshly caught mackerel on the river bank.

He brought their lips together a second later, melting whatever upset Steve had into the soft embrace of his fiancé, their hands finding one another on the duvet and entwining as they kissed. Tony's goatee scratched against Steve's neatly shaven chin but neither cared, barely noticed whilst the seconds ticked by.

When they finally parted, the soldier saw strength within his lover's eyes, "We can't keep pushing everything back for the good of the world, Cap. You know that. What happens when we start pushing Pete's milestones back, or start telling him we can't make his birthday because something came up?" Tony shuddered at the thought of that, since he had felt the sharp sting of rejection at his own father's hands. He recalled how Howard left him every single birthday, appearing some time later with a case of Bourbon and a few dozen cigars in his pocket, like he had been celebrating elsewhere with people Tony didn't know. It still hurt him to that day. He would be damned if he let his own son go through that.

"You're right," the super soldier pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes, throwing himself against the headboard again as the facts danced in front of them, "You're right. Damn it, I hate it when you're right."

Tony bit back a reply; instead, he simply stroked his lover's arm with a sense of comfort, like he didn't have any comebacks stored away and didn't want to continue with Steve's sudden clarity.

"So," the billionaire looked up into his eyes, his fingers biting into his lover's wrist as he started speaking, "What should we do, Mister Know-It-All?"

Was that an admission? A confession that Tony was more right than he was and they should go along with his plans for once? Or was it permission? Perhaps the super soldier had resigned himself to the fact they needed a trip away, somewhere secluded where the masses wouldn't find them…

"What do you mean?"

"For Christmas. If you want to go away, I guess we can. We'd have to clear it with Fury first, though. I'm not going to be around for that conversation." He smiled through the words, since they both knew that it would be Steve breaking the news to their director rather than the tactless Tony.

Stark could only stare at his boyfriend, dumbfounded. He wanted to focus on how he had finally won an important argument between them, how the super soldier had admitted defeat to one of his outrageous plans and let their duties slide for once, but he didn't want to miss the window of opportunity.

So he replied with an almost overwhelming excitement, "We could take everyone to the cabin for it – not long, just a couple night's stay – and have a big old pine tree in the living room with all sorts of crap hanging off it, just like back in the day." He saw that Steve's eyes darkened at the thought, since his Christmas' had normally been spent in front of a roaring fire with his mother, sipping on the hot chocolate she made and listening to stories of his absent father.

But that didn't seem to faze Tony as he continued on, "We'd have to take all his presents with us you know, but I'd let you drag that lot to the car. I'm not dealing with the back pains. Besides, you've proven that you're the stronger of both of us, so it shouldn't be a problem for Mister Muscles."

To emphasise his point he jabbed Steve's stomach, his finger throbbing as he touched the Serum-enhanced body. Many times they had joked about the man's house-like build; it wasn't the first time that Tony had found himself admiring the very thing he made fun of, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

"Fine, fine, but I don't want to be dragging something huge to the car. If it's over fifty pounds, you can keep it at home until we get back."

"You're no fun. Still, I guess we'll have to leave Pete's robot behind…" the billionaire let out a grin as he remembered the child's birthday present, which had taken up a sort of permanent residence within his laboratory. Peter didn't like its lifeless eyes so it couldn't stay in his room, and Steve hated the way it lingered around their bed after moving it to theirs, so Tony had decided that its safest bet was to stay within the laboratory until they found something to do with it. It probably wouldn't find much use until the child started tinkering with it…

Suddenly, there was a knock at their door. Steve lunged over to grab Tony's most comfortable pair of sweatpants, throwing them at the billionaire before he jumped up towards their entrance, his face plastered in a smile to cover their serious conversation. He didn't even bother saying 'come in' – he simply swung the door open to reveal their sleepy little soldier, his hands to his eyes as he rubbed the sand from them.

"Woke up, bad dream," Peter tried to explain whilst his father picked him up. His wild locks were pointing in all different directions and his pale skin seemed cold to Steve's touch, though he put it down to the fact they had put him in cotton thin, light blue pyjamas.

"Really? You had a nightmare?" his coo served to inform Tony of their situation, "I guess that means you'll want to sleep in our bed again, won't it?" instantly the two men flashed a glance towards each other, as if confirming the fact they were both alright with having the boy in their bed again, separating them from one another whilst he slept innocently between them.

Tony's voice was also a soft coo, though only because he didn't want to pull the boy from his sleepy state, "Come on then, you better curl up in the middle. JARVIS, turn up the temperature. Pete's feeling a bit chilly."

"Very well sir," the crisp British voice echoed through their bedroom as the billionaire tucked his son in, making sure that the duvet was securely fixed around his shoulders. Steve felt a smile descend on his lips. He loved watching his fiancé fuss over their little boy, show his more caring side whenever he worked to make him comfortable or tried to invent something that would entertain him. Now, as he gazed at the dark-haired man taking care of their equally black crested boy, it was all he could do not to sigh at the sight.

"I love you, Tony," he smiled before pecking him softly on the lips, taking his place beside their child as he slowly fell asleep, "And you, Pete."

"We love you too," Tony spoke for both of them whilst a mischievous glint descended in his eyes, "And we'll talk more about this tomorrow."


	16. Fury's Talk

"Fury! Fury! I blew up the laboratory again!"

"WHAT? AGAIN?!"

"No not really, but now this news won't seem as bad," Tony smirked as he took a seat in front of the director, the kitchen table looking slightly less pristine with spilt coffee oozing over it. Fury looked down at his hot beverage for a moment before sighing, almost as though he expected Stark to pull stunts like that.

"What is it then? I'm busy." A lie, because they both knew that he'd been reading the newspaper some moments beforehand; the same one that now laid on the floor dripping with coffee stains, the black and white print smudged with brownish lakes of caffeine.

"Well, Steve and me were talking last night-"

"And that concerns me why?"

"If you let me finish, you'd know," Tony's face became peaked with irritation since, for all intents and purposes, he hated being interrupted, "We were talking about Christmas. You know – the time when everyone's supposed to be merry and give out presents and not act like a sour grandpa?" Fury shot him his own look of irritation, although whatever retort he had in stock was quickly brushed aside by the billionaire, "We thought it'd be nice for Pete if we…well, if we sort of…take the team…away…"

Realisation descended over the director's face. With a chuckle he brought the half-empty coffee mug to his lips, like he had thought exactly the same thing at one point and just hadn't said anything. His one good eye stayed rigid on Tony whilst he took a large gulp, draining what was left of his drink before he put one gloved hand in the rest of it. Everything was silent between them. The tycoon hated it when people didn't talk, especially when that person was usually barking lectures and demands.

"Let me get this straight," Fury finally chuckled, "You want to take the entire team away for the holiday, and leave New York defenceless?" Tony's cheeks burned with embarrassment when he heard it put like that, but he rarely backed down from something he wanted. He wouldn't let his companion bully him into retreat; he had let that happen enough with his own father, and he would be damned if it happened again.

"Not totally defenceless. We'll leave the drones running just in case something happens and have communications up in the car, but we won't be here. Reaction time will just be a little slower than usual."

For a moment, Fury wondered if his friend was joking. He had never quite understood Tony's sense of humour though he had bashed it often enough, which always made him contemplate his replies and left split-second gaps where the billionaire could focus on certain points. Their talks didn't normally end well. It was probably a good thing that they didn't happen much, save when they were discussing Peter or an aspect of the Tower.

"I mean, it's not fair on Pete if we keep brushing back the big things. Remember last Christmas? We didn't get to spend it with him and I really want this one to be different, even if it means that we have to go away for a while-"

"Where would we be going?" the director cut into Tony's inane babbling as skilfully as he would a briefing, giving the tycoon a slight bloom of hope that they might actually convince him. He recalled Steve forcing him downstairs not a few minutes before, a smile on his face to assure him it would all be fine.

But he wouldn't talk to Fury himself. By his reasoning he usually dealt with Nick, and it would be more useful for Tony if he actually tried to tell him first rather than hiding behind his boyfriend.

"A little cabin in the mountains," he explained with the same hope in his heart, a huge smile on his face as he imagined their little holiday, "It's pretty secluded, but I managed to get decent signal last time I was there. It's nice; sort of place for a murder mystery or roasting marshmallows by the fire, depending on what you're into."

The silence rose again. With a sigh Fury put his head in his hands, the leather gloves rubbing drily against his skin whilst he tried to comprehend all the information. It was his team and he wanted them to have some rest, but he couldn't imagine allowing such a detour…

"How long would we be gone for?"

"Just a few days. Maybe Christmas Eve, Christmas and Boxing Day, at the most."

"Jesus Tony," again the director sighed, but more out of defeat than anything else, "Three whole days? That's enough time for all sorts of crap to go down, you know that."

Tony wouldn't let the discussion slip into that route, "Maybe, but we'll be at the top of our game for when we come back. Think about it – a relaxed team is a team that works better together, and with what happened to Pete, I think he needs some time to recuperate." They were reminded of the boy's haywire mission, the way he had tried so hard to please them and seemed to have faced terrors he didn't like to talk about. All that night he slept between his two fathers, kicking out at unseen enemies as they could only watch him, helpless to do anything else…

The billionaire shook his head, _focus Tony, focus._

Fury's eyes flickered to his friend's face, then his hands. Eternal moments ticked by as he fiddled with his gloves, the fingers of which were stretched and battered after what seemed like millennia in SHIELD, though his face told Tony all he needed to know. The cogs of his mind were working; he was thinking on the suggestion carefully, so perhaps he had realised the importance of a healthy team environment, the need for relaxation just as vital as the need for training.

"Fine," he finally sighed, like music to Tony's ears, "But the comms are constantly running, without fail. I'm not leaving New York helpless just because we want some time away, you understand me?"

The billionaire was hardly listening by that time, too busy thinking about all the games he would take with him and how he would get everyone in the car. That giddy excitement descended over his face before Fury could run down the rules' list – it was actually refreshing to see his companion in that state, rather than the usual 'sarcastic bastard without remorse' face he put on for everyone.

"Yeah, yeah, we'll talk about rules later!" he said as he gathered himself up, excited to tell Steve the good news, "Thanks grandpa, I'll talk to you soon!" and with that he was gone, with the same enthusiasm of a kid that had just got permission for his first pet. Fury sat back for a moment, wondering whether he had just made a terrible mistake.

But he couldn't deny the thought of Christmas made him smile.


	17. The Fear Behind the Man

A week passed in the Tower and all was surprisingly calm. Peter spent the days fiddling with his little gadgets, toying with the modules his father had bestowed him whilst the superheroes went about their work, yet he couldn't help but notice how much time Tony spent in the lab. One day he was making his own form of the Hadron Collider when he heard his father's bickering, their voices so loud that they could be heard through his playroom walls.

"Tony, we're not getting a new scientist in just for Pete's power tests," Steve's words were laced with his usual authority, something that the team admired and used to keep themselves motivated, "I'm not putting him in danger just because you're curious."

"We won't be putting him in danger! It'll just be a new face in the Tower, and not even for a long time; an hour, three hours every week - at the very most!"

"I've said no!" huge footsteps thudded outside of the boy's playroom and his curiosity got the better of him. With his time-honed powers, Peter managed to open the door a crack, peering out to spy his fathers down the hall. They stood mere inches away from each other yet, instead of smiling, they looked as though they were gritting their teeth through broiling rage.

And it was Tony's turn to spit blind fury, "You're just saying no because you don't understand! Bruce's not going to be here for a whole month, so I need an extra pair of hands to deal with the experiments! We're putting Pete in more danger if I don't have sufficient staff!" the billionaire squared up to his boyfriend despite their noticeable height difference, as if he had a chance of winning should a fight break out between them. It never really happened and he didn't think Steve would throw a punch, but he had learnt long ago that there was no such thing as 'too careful.'

"It's not a case of you being short-staffed; it's a case of you being reckless and too busy to deal with our son, so you think it's okay to draft in some guy we don't even know." Steve's eyes were like coal as he stared through his boyfriend, the man he loved and who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. How could he be so selfish? How could he not want to spend those precious few moments with his little boy, since it seemed to be the only time they ever spent together?

"How can you even say that?!"

"I think it's pretty self-evident, Tony!"

"I'm sorry, I thought it was _me _actually trying to work out some time to spend with him, while all you do is say 'oh, our jobs keep us busy!' Don't you start telling me that I don't care when it's my idea about this trip away!"

Peter closed the door soon after that, juicy tears dripping down his cheeks as he thought about his fathers' rage. Why did he seem to be the cause of all arguments? Why was it him who had to listen to their bickering when it was him that they wanted to protect?

"Hm, you're really going to sink that low? Maybe I should sink that low too and start talking about your alcoholism!"

"I haven't touched a bottle in days!" the child wandered over to his half-finished castle, completely decked out with blocks of gold and a few self-painted crimson metals, the ones that Tony thought he'd abandoned but the child secretly took for later use.

And as the fighting outside continued, Peter found his sanctuary within his mind. He lost sense of the world that went on around him. Tony's voice screaming at Steve, Steve's calmness in light of his childish remarks and the slight hum of helicopters outside; it all dissolved whilst the boy began to put his blocks together, like nothing mattered when he started working and wouldn't matter until he had finished. It was another trait he shared with Stark.

Sometimes, Steve wondered if the boy shared anything with him.

There was sport, of course. Peter showed a natural aptitude for some forms of exercise, most notably American football and the different types of swimming, yet he didn't seem to share anything else with the super soldier. It was Tony who enforced physics on the boy and, with almost terrifying ease, he seemed to know everything his billionaire father taught him in a second, whilst any type of sport's fact fell on near-deaf ears during their days out together.

Steve was in turmoil, and even he didn't know it. He wanted to see himself reflected in the boy; it wasn't a bad thing that when his big green eyes looked up at his father, he could see his fiancé. It may have been a great thing judging by their strange situation, but it didn't mean that the super soldier didn't feel a twinge of jealousy at it, a little niggle at the back of his mind that told him, 'He's Tony's son, not yours.'

What could those feelings mean? Did the leader have second-thoughts about Tony, about wedlock…about Peter's adopted paternity? He had no idea. No one had any idea.

Except for Peter, who had become fairly skilled at determining people's feelings. His youthful outlook on things had rendered him unable to see anything but the truth, at least in his little world.

"Peter be better for Captain Daddy," he decided with a fierce determination, placing another block into a dangerously narrow slot as he built his construction, "Captain Daddy love Peter then."


	18. Bruce's Consolation

Steve sat in the gym later on that morning, his head in his hands as he replayed the argument over and over. How could Tony say those awful things about him? It wasn't as though the soldier hadn't tried to put Peter as his top priority, hadn't tried to separate work and play when they were with the little boy; it was just hard when he was the head of the team and everyone else depended on him too. It wasn't his fault that he'd been thrown into the deep end. Why couldn't Tony get his mind off of what he wanted long enough to see that?

"Daddy?" a tiny knock sounded at his door, though he chose to ignore it. The gym equipment around him was his only sense of comfort – if he had to pretend that everything was alright whilst he dealt with Peter's problems, he thought that he would burst a gasket.

Outside Peter patiently waited. He held a big cupcake in one hand and a pot of Steve's favourite tea in the other, like he had something to apologise for rather than his arrogant billionaire father. If Steve could see the look of determination on his son's face, his heart would have melted from cuteness overload.

But of course the soldier was wounded and, as he clambered on another one of his metal contraptions to work off the hurt, he could only think about burying Tony underneath a pile of his own suits. There was no thought for his son, no thought for the boy that looked so much like Stark.

So Peter continued to wait and continued to stay so hopeful, despite the fact his father was putting all his effort into ignoring him. His small face looked like an adorable porcelain doll, the sort that stared out lifelessly despite all of the horror that flicked past its eyes, and he kept his smile no matter how much time passed. An hour went by and still he stood, waiting.

"Hey Pete," it was Bruce that eventually noticed his vigil, on his way back from the lab after what seemed like two weeks of isolation, "What are you doing?"

"Captain Daddy here," Peter's eyes never left the door, as if it would spring open at the very moment he turned and he'd miss his chance of apologising. The scientist stared down at him for a moment like he was going to disappear, unsure of how to act since he knew the child could misinterpret everything he did, before he simply crouched down to come head height with the boy. Tranquil brown eyes met smouldering, chaotic green, and the small smile that flickered on Bruce's face was enough to tell Peter he wasn't leaving until he had calmed him.

"Did you hear their argument earlier?" he asked with that sympathetic tone in his voice.

Peter wanted to shake his head, but he nodded.

"Are you afraid of a new person coming to the Tower?"

"No, Uncle Bruce."

"Oh," genuine surprise filled Bruce's eyes for a moment, "Then what's up, little man? Why are you waiting for Cap if you aren't scared?"

Then it was Peter's turn to look peacefully into his uncle's eyes, like everything made sense and it was only the scientist who couldn't see the truth. With a clear voice he spoke and, even in his broken English, every single syllable chilled Bruce to the bone.

"Captain Daddy no love Peter," a glistening tear fell from the child's eyes as he spoke, "Captain Daddy hate Peter, so must make better. Must sorry. Captain Daddy love other – Peter be other!"

Bruce's heart almost snapped in two when he looked at the child. Those hopeful eyes were alight with pain as he turned, facing the door with his hands still clasped around his presents. Couldn't Steve see the pain his son was in? Was Peter doomed to dangle between both the soldier's and Tony's moods?

The Other Guy was close to coming out.


	19. Discussion on the Boy

"It's reckless, it's unfair and it's downright shameful," Bruce shouted over his cup of coffee the next day, right into Tony's face as they tried to work through his mounting anger, "You both said that you'd put your differences aside and look after Pete – instead, you're both squabbling like children and making him feel bad!" with furious strength the scientist sipped on his drink, almost as if he were resisting the urge to jump forward and swipe at both of his teammates.

They just sat there on the other side of the table, listening to him like they were shocked, wondering how they could have been so blind not to notice they were fighting so closely to Peter's playroom. Tony had never meant to make the child feel like Steve didn't care. Steve had never meant to say those awful things about Tony. The mess they found themselves in when rage took over was enormous; sometimes, the billionaire wondered whether he was really giving Peter a good home, although he knew that the alternative was far worse.

Bruce's rage subsided enough for him to speak again, "You both need to get your acts together. Did you even tuck Pete in last night, Steve?" his brown eyes turned to the super soldier, searing his very soul as his friend paused and drummed his fingers against the table.

"No," he sighed honestly, his mind stuck on the fact he spent all night in the gym, "I didn't think it would be that much of a problem. He hadn't seen me all day anyway."

"Like normal," Tony muttered under his breath but not loud enough for everyone to hear, because he didn't feel like getting berated for his views. He was the one who read the story that night, listened as Pete sobbed for his Captain Daddy and heard how he thought that Steve didn't love him – in the billionaire's eyes, that man was as much responsible for Peter's suffering as any one of their enemies.

The air returned to its normal stillness, with the tension in it reaching a maximum point as Bruce glanced back and forth, "So you didn't see Pete for the entire day, and you thought it'd be okay to miss his bedtime? Tell me how that logic works, please." His eyes were still like black stones whilst he took another sip of his coffee, though they never stopped staring at the two men in front of them. A deep scarlet flush crept along Steve's cheeks, a reply on his tongue that just couldn't come out.

"Well…he wouldn't have…I mean, it's not like…I didn't think that…"

"No, you didn't think!" Bruce interrupted, "You didn't even answer the gym door when Pete started knocking for you. You know he ended up in the lab after that? Started crying because he was going to give you a cupcake but the chocolate melted, and the tea he made went cold because you didn't answer the door-"

"That was Pete?! I thought it was Tony," the super soldier's groan was loud enough to rattle windows and, for a split second, the billionaire was actually glad that Peter wasn't at breakfast with them. Thor had decided that the discussion was far too tense for such a young child to be present – he'd taken him to a local diner for some food, despite the protests from Steve that he needed something 'without enough grease to fuel McDonalds.'

So Tony felt completely at ease when he replied, "Yeah, don't worry about it Steve, I wouldn't have come knocked for you even if I was in the wrong."

Bruce waved his arrogance to the side for a moment, not caring whether the billionaire felt that he wasn't being heard or if there were some underlying issue for their pre-marital problems. He just wanted them to see the damage they were causing to Peter.

"Anyway," the super soldier shot a sideways glare at his lover, "Was he really upset that I didn't answer the door?"

"He was out there for a good hour before I found him, and then two more until he came into the lab. I asked him if he just wanted to eat the cupcake himself and he said no; he said that he made it specially for you and he wanted you to eat it, or else it wasn't going to be a special treat."

At that moment, Steve just wanted to cry. He could imagine his son's hopeful face as he stood outside the gym door, waiting so diligently even though his father wouldn't answer, never wavering in his determination to give away a cupcake and make him feel as though he were a valued father figure. With hurricane force his emotions returned, but only to make him feel like the biggest fool to ever walk the face of the earth.

Tony felt the insufferable tears prick his eyes as well. It wasn't him who had ignored their little boy nor did he try to avoid him for the rest of the day, but he felt partly responsible for making him feel like Steve didn't care about him. He should have thought about things before they left his mouth. It was one of the things Pepper said he needed to keep a lid on. It hadn't happened yet but without so much alcohol in his system, Stark had made baby steps towards controlling it.

"What do I have to do?" they both said in unison, looking up at Bruce like he was the oracle of all wisdom. Without thinking the scientist let a flicker of a smile come to his face, probably because Tony never asked him for advice unless he really needed it, but mostly because he had succeeded in his goal to make them see how much they were hurting Peter.

"Well, I'm taking Joanna out tonight and the others are off to the cinema for that new film," Bruce shuddered as he thought about the film adaption of War Horse, but he digressed, "So you guys have a choice – if you're really seriously about making Pete happy, you take him out for dinner and remind him that you give a damn about him. You can stay in too, or do whatever you want! Just so long as the night is about what he wants to do and not what you two think is best for him to do."

With a meaningful glance at Tony as he spoke, the scientist sat up in his seat and took another long sip of coffee. He could almost feel the cogs working in the men's minds whilst he drank but, because he was so pleased with himself for getting the message across, he wasn't interested in seeing their facial reactions.

"I guess I can book us a table at a restaurant," Steve murmured after what seemed like an age, his cheeks flushed hot scarlet when he spoke, "He likes that place that makes the boat fish sticks and fries; maybe we can go there?"

"Yeah, that's usually quite quiet," Tony's reply was smaller than Bruce expected. He thought that there would be another uproar about where they went to eat, something like an argument on it not being expensive enough or that the food wasn't the perfect for their little boy. He certainly hadn't expected such compliance so quickly. He must have really wanted to make Peter happy.

By the look on Steve's flustered face, he was surprised too, "Oh, okay…I'll go call them up then…"

"Remember to ask for no reporters. I mean it – if I see one cameraman, I'll make us all leave to find somewhere else."

"I'll remember," and with that the super soldier was off, up to his office-room where he kept all the vital phone numbers and an old-fashioned phone that he found easier to use. Tony watched him for a moment with a dull expression in his eyes before he turned, facing Bruce as a wicked grin stretched on his face.

"Thanks for that Brucey," he muttered quietly, "Sometimes we need our heads knocked together. Pep was always good at that but, well…" his cheeks became flushed with embarrassment when he thought about his previous relationship, and so easily she had given up on him after she found out more about his lifestyle, "Just…thanks, you know? And don't think that this means I'm letting those tests slide; we've got to finish talking about the new guy coming to the Tower. With Steve next time."


	20. Diner Dash

Thor leaned over to wipe a chocolate stain from Peter's lips, his God-like smile dazzling as the child continued gnawing on his food. He hadn't thought that muffins could taste so good – on the rare occasion he'd been permitted one, they were always the boring blueberry muffins that Steve thought were 'better than the cholesterol heart-attacks.'

But the triple chocolate chip ones were certainly beating them on taste. With ease Peter managed to get to the very middle of it, not caring if the chocolate oozed around the corners of his mouth or that his expensive designer shirt was getting dirty, whilst Thor simply chuckled through mouthfuls of his third Full English.

"You will make a fine Asgardian if you keep up your appetite!" he mused, the rest of the diner fixated on them like they were the strangest family in the world, "Wait until my Lady Jane and I are reunited; we shall make sure that you are well fed like a warrior, spaceman!" Peter smiled at his little nickname though, for some months, he had wondered why Thor insisted on calling him that. Everyone else had opted to call him 'little' something but not the God, who kept his names as rigidly as he kept his ideology.

Whatever reply the child had was quickly interrupted by another face. It was a woman, someone who had watched them from across the diner and felt herself feel almost connected with the young family, her eyes sparkling through her enthusiasm to greet herself.

"Hello! I just came to say you've got a beautiful little boy here!" she squeaked as she addressed Thor, like the child didn't exist or she didn't find it appropriate to speak to him without first talking to his carer, "What's his name?"

"Him? He's young Peter Stark-Rogers!" Thor replied with a smile on his face. He felt proud about knowing such high-ranking people and being trusted enough to care for their son, although he didn't quite understand the impact of such an existence. The woman's eyes bugged out of her head as she looked at first him, and then the little boy with the muffin stuck in his mouth.

Peter managed to muster a smile through his mouthful but not much more than that. He didn't want to fall into a discussion with the women, especially after he had seen how people changed when they found out who cared for him, though it felt like that was all that happened when people started talking to him. It was always the same questions; how do you live with Tony Stark? Is Steve Rogers a good dad? What are they like when they're alone? Is there anything going on between them now?

And the list went on further, despite the fact Peter rarely answered the questions presented to him. He'd been taught how they asked for secrets so that they could sell it onto magazines, handing over the essence of a family they didn't even know so they could feel important for a few minutes. Tony had been a victim of it before – when it was revealed that Howard had left him alone one weekend during his boyhood, the whole country was in an uproar for all of about ten minutes. Then it was forgotten again.

Much like the billionaire's many achievements…

"Stark-Rogers?!" she gasped, "So, he's that little kid that Tony keeps locked up in the Tower?"

"Daddy help Peter! Daddy safe!" he protested through a mouthful of muffin, his eyes fixated on hers whilst the treat fell from his lips and onto the pristine white plate underneath. His hands were clasped on the table's horrifyingly garish decoration underneath him, rocking in his red leather seat like he was offended by the mere sight of her.

Thor flashed him an awkward sideways glance, "She did not mean what she said, spaceman. Calm yourself." His hand stretched out to catch the boy's trembling digits which, up until she had begun speaking, were relatively busy with the mucky outer layer of his muffin. How the God wished he too had a son, someone to carry on his legacy; it was a blessing to be a father, and a blessing that could only come within the embers of a child's energy.

Before she could speak again and further insult the little genius, Thor's phone rang out. He clutched it with embarrassment, hoping that no one's meal had been disturbed for the obnoxious song Tony had downloaded on it, clasping it to his ear with the urgency that he applied to many of his missions.

"Yes?" Peter looked up expectantly as he began speaking, his mind on who could have possibly called him. No one called the God unless it was a matter of real urgency – he had proved many times that he was uncomfortable with phones.

"Surely he'll be pleased! I shall tell him right now!" seconds later Thor threw his phone back into his pocket, a jubilant smile on his face as he turned to look at Peter and gave him a heart-warming smile.

"Uncle Thor?"

"I'm to take you back home to your fathers, and then you will all be getting ready for a family day out!" he announced quite clearly, making sure that the whole diner knew about Peter's exciting day planned.

"Daddies?!"

"Yes, your fathers are waiting for your presence," saying a short goodbye to the dumbstruck woman in front of them, the God quickly grabbed his wallet and left the paltry sum of money on the counter, collected up his young nephew and darted out of the door, so quickly that some people wondered if time had come to a standstill.

Peter's small voice could be heard as they went away, "Daddies love Peter! Daddies love Peter!"


	21. Home Sweet Home

When the pair eventually walked into the Tower, Tony was waiting for them in the grand foyer. Armed with a comb and a strange moose that he had bought off the internet, the billionaire quickly set to work making his son look presentable, thanking Thor for his diligent uncle duties whilst Peter squirmed uncomfortably under the comb.

"Where are you taking the young spaceman today?" the God asked as he plucked a stray hair from his coat, his thoughts on what was going on around him rather than where he had picked it up from, "He's quite excited for the trip."

"Nowhere special; just to see a movie, park, swimming, dinner," Tony explained with his eyes still on his son's locks, "Brucey gave us an earful about spending some actual time with him. Me and Steve…the fights are getting a little heated." Embarrassment flushed his cheeks when he admitted it, even though he knew Thor had prior knowledge to their problems. Everyone in the Tower had been discussing their relationship as of late – the arguments, bickering and several other incidents had all been duly noted, despite the fact it caused upset to the entire team and put their precarious balance in jeopardy.

Peter looked up just in time to see his father's scarlet hue fading, wondering whether or not he should have said something. That was probably his fault, the arguments and such; he wasn't exactly an easy person to care for with his powers and strengths, yet Steve didn't make it easier by refusing to accept he had more volatile natures.

To the super soldier, his son was flawless. He had power, mercy, control, accuracy, a future and a smart mind – it meant everything to Steve that Peter was the exact manifestation of what some people called perfection, even though he was other worldly and had been shot down from what seemed like the Heavens themselves.

"You should take him to see that child's film, I forget its name," Thor clicked his fingers to his ear, as if it would clear his thoughts and he could immediately call upon the name of the movie. Tony smiled at him with gratitude.

"Thanks Thor, but we've already picked the movie. Well, Steve picked the movie and the restaurant, so I picked the park and the swimming," it was hard for the billionaire to imagine compromising. With unease he had agreed to take fifty percent of the responsibility, smiling through his discomfort like it actually made him happy to think about when, in reality, he would have much preferred to take the whole day's planning on himself.

Peter's grin broke through as the tycoon ran the comb through his locks, "Film! Film!" his voice was so excited that Bruce smiled as he passed them, his arms hefty with the burden of packing and his eyes light when he looked at the men.

He managed to shout a quick, "Hey Pete, I'll say goodbye when I get back!" before he was off again, although the child didn't even turn around to his call. He had come to accept that Bruce was going to a new laboratory to test a rare specimen of mutated plant; it wasn't nice that the scientist had to leave them for a few days but, since it was for a good cause and he had vowed to return as soon as possible, Peter could let it slide just that once.

"You're going to have to stay really close to us," Tony warned whilst he adjusted Peter's new shirt, "I don't want you running off like last time, okay? Remember that reporter that kept taking pictures of you? We don't want that happening again." The child shuddered when he remembered that man, with his big 1950's fedora hat and the camera that kept flashing into his eyes. "Hey, hey, don't get all scared now. It wasn't your fault and Captain Daddy and me know that, so don't you worry too much about it. Just stay close to us and you'll be fine."

Then a loud voice boomed from the top of the stairs, making everyone's heads shoot up and forcing an inane grin to spread on Peter's face. He would recognise that voice anywhere. Even though it was laced with tiredness and a slight sense of triumph, it was enough to tell the child that his other father had finally shown himself from his bedroom, where he had been speaking to several restaurants in the pursuit of a bookable table.

"Did you manage to get the table we wanted? By the window, not enough to be seen through it?" Tony asked whilst his lover descended the stairs, his eyes alight with victory.

"The place we wanted didn't have any tables available…at least, they didn't have any tables that you'd like to sit at," he flashed a meaningful glance at Tony before continuing, "So I used that old Stark phone you gave me to look for some more restaurants, and I found this really cute Italian place just a little ways away from the swimming pool."

Stark let an eyebrow rise. He hadn't taught his lover how to use those old phones yet, and he hadn't bothered keeping the manual for it so there was no way Steve could have known how to search for something like that. Clicking his tongue, he put the comb and moose down just long enough for Peter to squirm free, his eyes on Steve like he was hiding something.

"Did you even call the place we talked about?"

"Sure I did!" the soldier's eyes flicked nervously from side to side, "What makes you say that?"

"Because you were talking about that Italian place a little while ago; something about it doing really healthy food and well-balanced nutritional desserts," Tony's eyes seemed to burn right through Steve's for a moment more, until finally the leader gave out a sigh and let his shoulders slump.

His weak grin was enough to make Thor disappear from the room, "Sorry Tony, but that other place was just…_covered _in grease and sugar. I checked it online. Three kids have got food poisoning after eating there, and I don't want the same thing happening to our little man." Quickly he picked the fidgeting Peter up, his eyes loving as he planted a kiss on his forehead, "He's too special to go through something like food poisoning."

The alien managed to give his father a kiss in return before he resumed his fidgeting. With softening eyes Tony looked at them, first his son and then his lover, until he closed the gap between them and gave Steve a kiss of his own.

"You're right. You made a great choice," he admitted quietly. The confession made his boyfriend smile.

"Do you mean that?"

Tony looked up long enough to see that twinkle in Steve's eyes, that little spark that told him how much the billionaire's praise meant and how much he just wanted to hear he'd done well. A smile danced across his face. His heartbeat quickened as he pressed a hand to the back of Peter's head, his throat rumbling with a short chuckle.

"Yeah," he muttered, "I mean it."


	22. Little Italy

The restaurant was nice and quiet, just how Tony liked it. He and his little family clinked their glasses together for a successful day of bonding, the sort of day that they didn't normally have unless there was some extensive planning involved.

"You made us proud in the pool soldier," Steve mentioned whilst they tucked into a nicely prepared Spaghetti Bolognese, "Turned into a little fish in there, didn't you?" the child's cheeks flushed with pride at his father's praise, ducking his head to avoid the embarrassment of them seeing his flaming red glow. It was all he could do to give a grunt of gratitude as Tony stroked his head, his brown eyes glimmering with love when he stared at his beautiful little boy.

It was a moment before Peter managed to choke his reply, "Thank Captain Daddy!"

The meal's aroma danced around them for a moment as they discussed menial things, such as Peter's interests and what he hoped he would get for Christmas. What he didn't know was that his fathers were busy noting down what he said, storing it on a small phone (notepad for Steve) so that they could consult it for later use and buy him exactly what he wanted. It surprised Tony to see how many teddy bears he wanted; the billionaire had always assumed that Peter's favourite toys were electronic or, at the very least, made of hard metal. It seemed Steve's old fashioned traditions were wearing off on the boy.

And the super soldier realised that as well.

Half an hour passed of their son excitedly talking to them, his voice growing hoarse under the weight of his chatter and his eyes dancing with what seemed like joy. It had been a long time since his fathers had time for him, especially talking time – he wanted to make the most out of that evening they had together. Time was something the Avengers couldn't afford to waste.

"It's nice to see him smiling," Tony whispered to his lover when the child took a quick moment, "He's always so serious about stuff. He's too much like you." Steve smiled at him knowingly, thinking how young Peter did sort of act like him in a leadership way, wondering how he could have missed something so obvious.

"He'll grow out of it when he sees how much fun you are," he mused in response, "After all, you get the job done."

A mutual smile passed between them for a moment since, for a long time, those had been the only words of praise they had for each other's performances. Whilst their relationship didn't dabble too long on what they did on the battlefield, they felt as though their differences in dealing with things had infringed upon it somewhat.

Without thinking Tony pulled his boyfriend in for a kiss…and a flash went off. Their eyes darted up to see a reporter far off in the distance, his camera aimed over a candlelit tablecloth as light ran through the dimly lit restaurant. Steve instantly threw his arms around their son whilst his billionaire boyfriend sprang forward, shouting out to the waiter that someone was invading their privacy.

"How dare you allow that reporter in here when we've expressly asked you not to!" he shouted in the face of a shivering, thinly moustached teenager that came to calm the situation, "He's just taken a picture of our son! This is a private family meal and I don't want it on the front page of some magazine!" Tony's rage was enough to rival Hulk's and, as Peter quivered in his arms, Steve couldn't imagine anything that would ruin their perfectly good day so badly.

Waving his hands around whilst the restaurant around them glared at the reporter, the man managed to choke out, "I'll get him to delete the picture, I'm so sorry about this. Our manager tried to keep him out – we expressly said no reporters but, sometimes they manage to worm their way in. We'll deal with it now. We're so sorry." The billionaire could hardly hear him as he felt the blood rushing through his ears, so loud that he thought a tsunami was rushing towards them.

After the incident was dealt with and the reporter was rightly berated by a disapproving family beside them, Tony was reluctant to sit down again. He thought it would make more of an impact if he threw his napkin down and stormed out, son in arm as a way of telling them he wasn't happy, but he stopped himself when he looked at his little boy. Those big green eyes gazed up at him expectantly, practically begging him to forget about it and carry on with their happy meal.

"So, Pete," he muttered through gritted teeth as he brought his wine glass to his lips, Steve's hand on his forearm to calm him, "We've got a surprise for you."

Peter's eyes widened even more, "Surprise?!" his voice was so excited that Steve had to refrain from a coo, and even stopped himself from sighing 'awww' as he done so often before.

"Yeah soldier; Daddy's made a little arrangement-"

"_We've _made a little arrangement, more like."

"Sorry – yeah, we've made a little arrangement. Do you remember last Christmas when we had to go on a mission?" Peter's expression fell flat for a split second, his eyes darkened before his father carried on, "Tony, do you want to do the honours?"

"I think we should do it together."

"Okay then," with a deep breath they looked at first each other and then Peter, who still gazed up with his expectant eyes. What was that elusive surprise they were talking about?

"We're going away for Christmas this year." Their voices clashed in unison, working in perfect harmony as if they had been born together or destined for that one sentence. The child's eyes were suddenly sparking with energy, the sort that only came from extreme excitement or the calling for battle, before he leapt over the checked tablecloth and cutlery to hug his fathers.

"Daddies and Peter spend time!" he squeaked, "Christmas!" the super soldier quickly wrapped his arms around the boy and his fiancé did the same, smiles stretching on their face as they cuddled their little son.

"Not just us soldier," Steve eventually pried him off them long enough to place him back into his seat, and he spared a quick 'sorry' for any of the watching families, "The whole team. We can't be gone for long but three days will be just what we need to celebrate, won't it? We'll be in the mountains for a few days."

Whatever he said fell on deaf ears because Peter, excited at the prospect of his whole family celebrating a holiday with him, had started babbling all about his games that they could play. Tony smiled as he took another sip of his red wine, letting him talk all he wanted whilst the two men waited for a break in it.

"Uh, sirs?" about five minutes later they were interrupted by the waiter, who clasped some piece of paper so tightly to his chest that they thought it would go straight through him.

"What is it?"

"Well, our manager talked to the company's owners-"

"_Little Italy _is a big company?" Steve cut in, sure that such a corporation couldn't own something so quaint.

"Not a huge one but, well, it's big enough-"

"Really? Wow, I should really search things up more before I book the tables."

"Steve," the super soldier turned to meet his boyfriend's gaze, his hand brushing wine from his goatee as he gripped his arm, "Let the guy finish."

He nodded, embarrassed as he signalled for him to continue, "Yes, well, anyway, the owners were really angry about what happened and asked us to write out an apology. They also told us that your meal was going to be on the house and that we're supposed to give your son here," he waved towards the dark crested little boy beside him, "a chance to go to Disneyland, on our company's budget."

"Woah woah woah," Tony suddenly threw his hands in the air, waving them frantically as if he were in front of a grenade, "All this just because of one reporter?"

"They're very interested in keeping your business, Mister Stark."

"Obviously," the billionaire looked at his boyfriend before he found himself chuckling, like he couldn't believe their day had panned out so perfectly, "You realise I can afford a trip to Disneyland myself? And we really don't care if we have to pay for dinner?"

"We know; it's just that our company owners don't want you thinking we're lax with the rules. Here, this should clear it up."

As the waiter pushed the sheet of paper in his hands and let a scarlet flush touch his pale cheeks, Tony's heart went out to him. He couldn't imagine doing something so menial with his life, something that seemed so pointless and yet brought such joy to some people, though he wasn't about to change his life with a job offering. Their life wasn't a fairy-tale.

At least, not unless Tony was with Steve.

He read it clearly to his boyfriend and son, "_Mister Rogers and Mister Stark; we are extremely sorry for the upset this reporter caused you. We would like to emphasise that we do not allow for such incidents to happen often and, when they do, we deal with it quickly and within proper procedures. We are aware that your business would greatly help raise our reputation within the restaurateur's ratings so we would very much like to extend our deepest apologies, as well as offer you a free trip to Disneyland for young Peter Stark-Rogers. We understand that these trips are easily affordable for someone of your stature but, with that in mind, we would like to further extend it by offering him a unique opportunity in one of our specially prepared homes."_

"What makes it so special?" Steve interrupted as he looped his arm around Peter's waist, a worried expression on his face, "It's not dangerous special, is it?"

"Calm down Steve, there's more to it," the billionaire smiled at him, "_It has a large swimming pool that is sanitised by already paid staff and state-of-the-art kitchen, including a huge play area and VIP passes to the attractions. We will eagerly await your response at the stated number."_

Tony didn't bother reading the phone number, instead choosing to put it aside as he smiled at his little family. His son hadn't bothered paying much attention to it after a while, his hands on his half-finished spaghetti before it got too cold to eat, but Steve had been closely paying attention.

"So…it's like a little holiday resort?" he eventually mumbled after what seemed like an age, "Think he'd like it?"

"It's nothing we can't afford ourselves, but yeah, he'd like it."

"Should we cancel the Christmas trip then?"

"What? No. Why would we even say that?" Tony quickly shook his head before he found himself turning back to the conversation, "It'd be nice for a summer thing but, other than that, I don't know if we should take it up. I mean, people don't bribe Tony Stark into repeat business. I'll be damned if they bribe my family."

In that moment Steve saw something, something that made him feel even more in love with Tony than he ever thought possible. It was that determination and those morals that the super soldier thought hadn't existed, but they were as strong inside him as was his love. Stark was an admirable man.

And he was his man, for the rest of his life.

"Daddies?" they looked down to see their little boy finishing his food, his face covered in the remnants of spaghetti and freshly prepared mincemeat, "Pudding now?"


	23. Flying the Flag

The new face in the Tower wasn't as bad as Steve thought. Well, at least not at first. He was a young man of about twenty seven years, equipped with a doctorate and many days practice in science-related fields, but he seemed overly eager to begin testing on Peter. His dirty blonde hair brushed out of his eyes when he excitedly told the fathers how he would like to test their son, the rounded glasses on his face barely balanced as he described each non-essential item he would experiment with to make sure it was a valid test.

"Okay, that's fine," Tony muttered after what seemed like an age, glancing over at his husband for confirmation of what they just heard, "But you understand that Peter's our main concern here; his safety, more like."

"Oh yes, I assure you he'll be very safe. Nothing that a young superhero can't take, is it?" the scientist, also by the name of Orville Orwell, wasn't much thinking about Peter's safety or how he would guarantee the tests would be pain free. All he cared about was getting his hands on the psychic legend long enough to see his abilities.

Steve wasn't convinced. He wouldn't allow Orville to be with Peter alone for about two weeks during his stay, although he masked it behind 'his son's need for physical contact' and 'the fact he's been poorly for some time.' The scientist didn't seem to mind as he fitted electrodes on the child's head, reading small graphs on the computer monitor whilst Steve kept his eyes fixated on his boy.

It was at the end of those two weeks that the soldier was called away on a mission. He didn't want to leave his precious son behind and he didn't want to leave him in the hands of Orville, but whatever worries he had fell on deaf ears as he told Tony. The billionaire trusted his employee completely. By the time Steve went away, kissing his son and boyfriend on the head with a heavy feeling in his heart, he felt as though he wouldn't come back to the happy family he was leaving behind.

"Hey, we'll be okay big guy. You just focus on keeping yourself safe out there. I don't want you getting hurt," Tony's eyes were light whilst they walked to the grand foyer's door, where his boyfriend would slip away for the umpteenth time and return with that familiar smile on his face.

"I love you Tony."

"I love you too, Steve."

A few days passed, and all seemed well within the Tower. Both men regularly contacted each other on Skype when they felt that they needed to talk whilst Peter, as per usual, just waited for the chance to hug his father again, a smile on his face when he went about the strange tests Orville insisted on. That was how he ended up in the Conference room of Stark Tower, standing on the edge of that balcony his father would never let him on as Orville began 'proper preparations.'

"Now, I know you can use your powers to make yourself levitate," he was explaining to the boy, despite the fact he knew he wasn't listening, "So, I'm going to test that right now. I'll throw you off the edge of this building and you use your powers so you don't die. How does that sound?" without waiting for an answer, the scientist suddenly picked up young Peter before throwing him off the edge; an act that the child hadn't anticipated.

But on his descent downwards, he was giggling. Air passed through his fingertips as he shot towards the ground, so light and feathery that he likened it to his new duvet, whilst around him people were screaming. They had looked up just in time to see the poor child fall – their cries were along the lines of, "OH MY GOD!" and, "THAT'S PETER!" Those noises were unheard by the young boy who was so innocently playing with the air, his weightlessness not a concerning factor as he felt like that normally.

"Ah, another quiet day," Tony sighed to himself as he leant back on his leather chair, knocking against his desk lightly whilst he sipped on his scotch. It had been a nice few days without too much going on, and the days were ticking down until he got to see his beloved Steve again. In fact, he was due back in the next half an hour, so the billionaire couldn't help spying the clock every five minutes and planning what he would do for him.

Suddenly, something zipped past his window. It was so fleeting that he couldn't get a good look at first but, when he leaned over, he saw the screaming faces below him, the various mothers and fathers who were clutching their children to their chests. A puzzled expression fell upon his face; surely people weren't afraid of the Tower? Or was it something to do with that thing that just fell from the sky? Maybe it was a bird…

He contemplated on it as he made his way to the Conference room, where he was sure he would be able to see what was going on and deduce what was frightening people so much. By the time the chrome plated doors opened, Tony was startled to see Orville there, staring down like he'd just seen a ghost.

"Hey, what're you-" the scientist tensed when Stark clapped a hand to his back, as if he were imagining that the billionaire would kill him for what he had done. Without warning he froze as well, his eyes fixated on the ground that stood a good few hundred feet below them.

"Orville…"

"…Yes, sir?"

"Care to explain why my son is hanging off a flag pole?" Peter was dangling from a well-placed flag pole that his father had fitted not so long ago, his shirt caught by the metallic instrument whilst the actual flag had slowly fallen to the ground. That picture of rage that descended over the tycoon's face was enough to scare ghosts.

"I'm sorry sir; I thought that he'd-"

"You thought he'd what?! I thought you said that you'd focus on Peter's safety, not throw him off the side of the Tower!" Tony's hands clasped around his face whilst he screamed, bending his knees as though he wanted to get closer to the boy, "You are so fired, it's unreal! I'll press charges! I'll get you jailed for attempted murder, how does that sound?!"

And of course timing prevailed them, since Steve had just stepped out of a limousine with that big smile on his face, his hands clutching a small duffel bag that he had been sure to fill with souvenirs. He was certain Peter would enjoy a real piece of the Eiffel Tower, though he couldn't quite remember how he had come across such an item…

_I bet they're watching a movie right now. God, I've missed them, _he thought as he gazed at his home. The Tower. He had missed its hideous design and the obnoxiousness of its existence, the way it simply dominated everything whilst giving his beloved the perfect view. There was also the fact that Tony had gone through the trouble of installing his own flag pole that Steve loved, which was now dangling with his beautiful son and…

Wait, what?

"OH MY GOD!" the super soldier's voice echoed around the clearing before he rushed into the place, his mind set on a path to the Conference room where he hoped to put on his boyfriend's suit and save his precious jewel. He was surprised to see Tony was already there, but only because he seemed to be screaming at Orville.

It was then that the penny dropped, "I told you not to leave our son alone with him! I told you!" he screamed before looking down at his dangling Peter, his young face creased in laughter as he swung on the flag pole, "What the Hell were you trying to do?! Why is our son swinging off the pole?!"

"Mister Scientist here wanted to see if Pete could actually fly, so he threw him off the side of the building! You know you can just ask him, Orwell?! He's a good boy!"

"Tony, get the damn suit on and get our boy!" without hesitation the billionaire began to suit up, the metallic voice of JARVIS telling him exactly what was going on even though he knew, "And you apologise to him for leaving him with this maniac!"


	24. Tony's Fear

"Oh my little boy, my sweet little boy, are you okay? Are you hurt? My little Pete, how could I have left you with him?" Tony muttered as he cradled his son back and forth, his fatherly tears cascading like a waterfall. Steve lingered on the other side of his office sofa, watching them so closely that he thought his eyes would fall out, stroking his child's head like he was trying to calm him.

In truth, Peter was very much fine. He was giggling on the pole when his Ironman father retrieved him, his little hands in the breeze ahead as though he didn't comprehend the situation he was in, whilst everyone else had been watching to see if the little genius would survive. It wasn't a nice predicament to find himself in.

Just as well that Steve had wanted that pole installed, really.

"I can't believe this happened," Tony babbled to his boyfriend as he clutched his child harder, the cold arc reactor in his chest comforting to the young Peter, "Orwell had so many references; everyone said he was a great scientist, and he was supposed to be one of the youngest doctorate earners from his university."

"That's the problem – he's a doctor, not a father. He didn't see Peter like we see Pete," the super soldier's hand caressed his cheek as he spoke, as though he were trying to comfort his tycoon fiancé instead of condemn him for his actions, "He's our baby. We should be the ones to do the tests on him, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I'll never let someone else put their hands on him again. He's mine. He's my baby and my responsibility."

"Our baby," Steve's eyebrows rose whilst he kept a sturdy gaze on his boyfriend. That cocky smile descended on Tony's face before he planted a kiss on the soldier's cheeks, causing a faint blush to dance across them and dye him a light red hue. The billionaire loved to make his fiancé blush.

It didn't take much, though.

A few minutes passed, and still Stark refused to let go of his son. The sun raked across the sky whilst they rocked backwards and forwards, their hands clasped over the soft skin of Peter and their minds set on making him calm, when in reality he was as calm as he could possibly be. It wasn't like he had faced a horrifying monster or an enemy of the world – he had just fallen from a great height.

"We'll never let you out of our sight from now on, okay? You'll be nice and safe with Captain Daddy and me. You can stay in the office when I'm working and when I can't have you Captain Daddy will take care of you and-"

"Tony, just relax," Steve's hand shot out to touch his boyfriend's shoulder, a smile on his chiselled features as he stroked him gently, "He's perfectly safe in the Tower, so long as we don't let anyone else take care of him on the really important stuff. That guy – Orville? – he's the sort we've got to keep away from our soldier." He smiled down at Peter to make him feel more secure, though his big eyes were more concerned with Tony's twinkling tears. He couldn't have really scared his parents, right?

"You're right. You're right; I'll call Brucey up and tell him the news. No one will ever take care of Pete again unless it's us, a close family friend or someone married into the family. It's better that way."


	25. On the Trip

The magical time for the team came quickly – the eve before Christmas Eve, and the day they made their way to the mountains. The Tower was alive with excitement as Bruce tried to dress an overtired Peter, who hadn't slept the night before due to his boyish excitement and the fidgeting of his equally eager father, whilst everyone else busied themselves with the packing.

"Stop moving Pete!" the scientist chuckled when his nephew lurched forward, pulling him into a tight hug that he couldn't quite wriggle out of, "We need you dressed if we're going to get to the jet on time, don't we?" with a giggle Peter released him, although his eyes were alight with the fervour of youth.

"Daddy says trip! Trip Christmas!" Bruce fitted an appropriately thick coat on for his nephew since, from the beginning of that month and throughout their holiday, they were going to be approached with horrifying temperatures.

Steve soon entered the foyer with a burden of presents on his shoulder, a smile on his pale complexion when he caught sight of his son and friend, "Feeling up to the trip, Pete?"

"Peter flying on plane! Team and Peter together!"

The super soldier felt another grin break on his face as he kissed his child's head, feeling as proud as a father could possibly feel. He didn't care that Peter's mind was wider than the vastest stretches of the world, or that the boy would one day rule Stark Industries with the same finesse of his father; it only mattered that he was happy and, by the look of that broad grin on his face, it seemed he was.

Tony rushed in from the outside, looking wildly around until he caught sight of his lover. He smiled at him before hurrying over, that expression on his face similar to Peter's as he gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"You got the presents?"

"That's what this huge sacks full of."

"Good; load them into the car then, and we'll be on the road in about twenty minutes," he turned to the boy sitting in front of the scientist, being primped and prepped for their awaiting journey, "How are you feeling bucko? Getting excited yet?"

Peter returned a grin, his giggle so adorable and feathery that Tony thought a puppy had made it. That Christmas would be a wonderful memory for all of them – it would be one of those days they could look back on in a future time and think without regret, 'Yeah, we did that right.'

Minutes later they were all bundled into the limousine, making conversation with Stark's chauffeur as the billionaire played with his son, exciting him for their upcoming trips and listening to all the games he wanted to play with them. His grin towards Steve made the soldier's heart melt, as though he had just seen Tony in the fatherly light that made them fall in love.

"It's going to be really cold up in the mountains – will we need firewood?" Clint asked as he opened another can of Coke. The men all turned their eyes towards Tony since he was the only one with prior knowledge, considering the fact he had bought the place and spent a few weeks there.

"Firewood? Yeah, that'd probably be a good idea," the billionaire snuggled up to the side of his lover, his goatee trembling as he stretched his lips into a smile, "You guys can go out and get that for us, can't you?"

"Anything for my Tony," Steve cooed back in reply. He was met with a few groans from the people around him and a couple of 'get a room's', but that only served in widening Tony's grin and making him kiss the super soldier's lips. Their friends made a sick noise before they turned their attention to Peter, who had busied himself on the floor with a Pentagram Rubix cube.

Natasha was the one to speak first, "Aw Pete, why don't you put the cube away? You're here to spend time with your family!" the boy looked up at her with that innocent expression in his eyes, "You don't have to show us how smart you are."

He dropped it at her words, moving closer to his fathers as they got lost in each other's eyes. It was a trip for them as well – despite the fact they had spent a luxurious holiday together and become reacquainted, it was always exciting to go away on an adventure. Especially when that adventure included a Kings sized bed and a room bigger than most living spaces.

"I got you a great gift Pete," Bruce mused to distract him, "You're going to love it. If we're still at the cabin on Boxing Day, maybe we can fire it up and give it a whirl?"

Peter smiled at his uncle before muttering, "Love you, team."


	26. Cabin Thoughts

"Wow!" Steve's exclamation rang around the lavish cabin, decorated to the most minute detail with the finest of furniture and luxurious gadgets, "This place is huge!"

"Only the best for a Stark," the billionaire barged past his boyfriend to inspect the place, remembering that he hadn't been there for some time since his last escapade; oh, how those girls had adored his secluded retreat…

Peter's eyes were wide as he glanced about. He could see the windows fogged with the frozen touch of outside's weather, the fireplace that had long been disused and dusted only once a month, arching in front of a huge amount of black leather chairs and peppered by the faintest hints of red rose petals. The living room's warmth was a complete contrast to the harshness of outside since, in their brief fumbling to get the key and make their way inside, the child's ears had become a sharp red hue, his cheeks puffed out as he tried to keep himself warm.

On the other side was a huge games room, fully equipped with pinball machines and other items that Tony liked to distract himself with. The cocktail bar in the very corner would have turned a drunk man sober whilst the rest of the room, flashing with bluish mood-lights that the billionaire had bought on a whim, was ready for what seemed like an apocalyptic assault, reinforced with steel fixtures which were meant to make it look good.

"Did you really need all this?" Bruce asked as he busied himself behind the bar, "Seems like a lot of stuff for just a couple nights' stay."

"Brucey, it's me!" Tony's features stretched into a grin, picking up his squirming little Peter whilst the boy gazed in awe about them, like a moth to a flame in the dead of a winter's night.

Steve and Clint left the warm security almost as soon as they were unpacked. Their hands were burdened with heavy axes and their faces were plastered with smiles since they were so content, happy to watch the young Peter gaze about despite the relative normality of his surroundings.

They stopped when they heard Tony calling, "Be careful out there, guys. It's hitting minus ten degrees Celsius and, if you didn't know, that's pretty damn cold."

Deep brown eyes met ocean blue as the billionaire passed two coats to them, hidden away in the depths of an old coat closet and still as thick as the day he had bought them. Steve's smile widened before he gave his Tony a soft peck on the lips, causing Clint to turn away so they could share a 'private' moment.

"Get Pete warm before you worry about me; he's looking a little chilly," the super soldier pointed out. A soft chuckle sounded through the air as Stark graced his lips again, that time much more tender, like they weren't going to see each other for another few months rather than the short space of about an hour.

"I'll look after him. You just keep the coat on and both of you come back if you start getting numb, got it? I'm not going to get your frozen butt."

"I've been in ice enough now," with another kiss Steve turned towards the door, slipping his coat on as he called goodbye to his son, "You be a good boy while I'm gone Pete, or else you'll get a talking to when I'm back!"

"Love you Daddy!"

He smiled before disappearing out the door. Clint followed behind as loyally as a dog would follow his master when, in reality, the two were equally gifted in their chosen skills, perhaps to the point where a battle between them would be deadly.

Tony doesn't quite know what Steve thinks sometimes. He knows that the super soldier valued authority – Hell, he knew that his boyfriend loved being in the driver's seat, even though it didn't happen often – but he couldn't tell whether he wanted Peter to be disciplined or carefree. Sometimes he would let things slide and allow him to have fun, yet other times he would just refuse to let the boy do anything until he had completed a set list of chores. It was all very confusing. Not that Stark was complaining. It was nice to see that his fiancé cared so much for their adopted son since, without the two of them equally loving him, he wouldn't have a chance in the Tower.

"Come here little man," the scientist behind the bar quickly grabbed young Peter, pulling him up to see the various cocktail ingredients and several hidden 'tools' that Tony had put there before. He pointed to a small little bottle on the corner; an old, plastic piece of material that had once held a strange coke mixture, but had since been discarded for lack of a better use. No one would have thought the fish-shaped container had such a sinister history.

"Drink!" he purred, "Drink! Thirsty!"

Bruce tickled every revealed piece of skin he could, smiling and laughing as the child wriggled under his grip, "Fine, fine; we'll make you something to drink. Hey, Tony!" the billionaire was pulled from his trance suddenly, his eyes fixated on his friend and beautiful little boy, "Do you have anything that's not alcoholic here?"

"Water, milk, juice – tropical, I think. I called up ahead of time but, it can be dangerous to bring supplies up here."

He was right; the roads outside were icy, and the dangerous slippery pathways were enough to break a walker's neck. When they were coming inside Tony had been careful to keep Peter close to his chest, careful to tread lightly on the ice as he walked and even more careful to keep an eye on Steve, who didn't have the best track record when it came to precocious balancing.

"Ah yes, here it is. Take him for a minute."

Peter was passed to his awaiting father, sharing one equal breath as the boy dipped his head on the man's shoulder. His big green eyes stared up at Tony for a moment, one perfect moment, before he turned away again to look at whatever Bruce was doing. The billionaire's heart skipped. He loved that perfect little person in his arms more than all the money in the world, all the cars and expensive women and alcoholic drinks and coffee – he loved him more than life. He would sacrifice anything just to see his son smile.

Bruce went about pouring a tall glass of tropical juice for Peter, but he didn't seem impressed. He had caught the nutritional values with the corner of his eye and, since he was so certain that Steve wouldn't have approved, he gave a quick glance towards the only other father in the room, the only man who could have told him whether or not it was okay. It was a good thing the billionaire could read him like a book.

"It's the holidays," he airily said whilst he gave his son a squeeze, "He's got to have some fun for once, hasn't he?" without thinking Tony grabbed the drink, quickly giving to Peter before he placed him on the floor and leaned in closely to Bruce, drumming his fingers against the bar's solid surface like he wanted to say something important.

The scientist's eyebrows rose. He hadn't seen his friend like that in a while, "What?"

"We need to talk. Privately."

"Oh, okay. Um, where?"

"Come up to my room." He turned around to the team behind them, Thor's eyes fixated on an Avenger's themed pinball machine and listening as Natasha tried to explain the rules to him, Fury busy with the ins and outs of the plasma screen television just above the fireplace and Peter's curiousity with a potted plant, the drink clasped tightly in both his little hands. "We'll be right back, guys. Don't wait up. You be good." He added to Peter before he turned towards the stairs, which were winding and fixed behind the bar.

There were several doors along the huge hallway. Bruce gripped the banister as he walked behind his friend, looking airily at each one with a wonder which would be his, until Tony quickly pointed towards the one closest to the end door and said, "That's yours, Brucey. It's big enough." He wondered momentarily just how big it was but before he could have a look, Tony was striding forwards, his gloves almost falling off whilst he gripped the end door's handle and gave it a twist.

"Wow," the scientist's eyes went wide as he gazed about the room. It was huge. A fish tank was sat in the wall on the left side of them, housing all sorts of tropical marine life whilst there sat a huge, four poster bed in front of them, pulled from the wall and in the very middle of the room. The style looked no more like a cabin than it did to Tony's actual room at the Tower, where he slumbered with his beloved boyfriend and occasionally his sleep-deprived son.

"I know, it's the best money can buy," Tony drawled before he sat on the bed, his feet swift as he kicked off his shoes and gave Bruce a smile, "I needed to talk to you."

Bruce can't tell what it was. The way Tony smiled at him, the gestures that he had made on his bed and how he seemed so relaxed or, quite possibly, the fact that he had whispered that they needed to speak together privately. It just set him on edge.

"Tony, I wouldn't feel comfortable being with _you. _Steve's my friend. We've been friends for a long time and, well, you've got little Pete to think about and I'm not even-"

"Brucey," the billionaire's hand stopped him talking. There was no offense in Tony's eyes but a slight note of irritation, "I've got a son and a fiancé. Just because that fiancé happens to be a guy, doesn't mean I'm into every single guy I've ever laid my eyes on. I wanted to talk to you about Peter's tests."

The scientist allowed a glow to flush against his cheeks, "Oh. What about them?"

"I recorded something weird in the last set – when Pete started to buckle under himself and fall asleep, there was this energy that jumped out of him."

"An energy? That's never happened before."

"At first, I figured it was an anomaly. I looked back over the evidence when he went to sleep and tried to calculate it, but I only came to one conclusion."

There was a silence in the air. Bruce looked at him frustrated for a moment, as though he were holding the precious secret to life and what mattered in the universe.

"Which was?"

"Pete's powers are developing," Tony shot him a meaningful glance as he spoke, changing his coat for a more stylish suit and tie combo, "They're developing into pure energy attacks – deadly, if they get too powerful. The magnetic field around his brain is becoming thicker too, and I don't know what will come out of that. His sixth sense is growing."

"That means…"

"Don't say it. I won't hear it."

"Tony, you've got to think about the facts here; one slip up and-"

"Bruce!"

"If he's getting too powerful for us to control, we might have to…think of a way to neutralise him. Not kill him…just…keep him safe and contained until we can actually do something about it."

"That's my son, Bruce."

"And this is the world, Tony."


	27. Returning to the Common

Steve and Clint returned triumph with the wood, their faces red and their bodies exhausted after what seemed like hours of chopping. The super soldier instantly sought out his little boy, finding him on the lap of Thor as the God retold a tale of pure heroism, before he dropped his burden on the ground and gave him a soft peck.

"Where's Tony?" he asked as he began to stroke the boy's hair, his eyes directed at Thor.

"Our friend went into his room with Bruce and has yet to come out," the God replied. Peter's happy smile wasn't enough to stop Steve's fingers freezing in his hair, wondering why his beloved fiancé would go into their room with someone else and not have come out. Silence descended over the room. Fury looked up from the fiddling of the brand new books, the ones with the golden embroidered bindings and fixed with an almost predictable bout of endings.

He was conscious of the thoughts going through Steve's head, "Stark and Banner went up there about fifty minutes ago – I think they were discussing something privately. Chances are, it's something to do with my young nephew here." He actually gave the little boy a smile, even though Peter instantly made it fall into a half-maintained grin.

"Grandpa!"

"Remind me to kill Stark, won't you?" the casual question to Clint made the archer smile, his hands in the kitchen sink in an attempt to get rid of dirt and loosen up any of his offending splinters. Why couldn't trees have been cut down with arrows? He didn't think that a big, sluggish axe was as perfect as his arrows, each one tipped with a perfection that he had woven in himself.

Steve couldn't tell what he was feeling. Something bubbled away at the pit of his stomach, something similar to jealousy and yet, at the same time, something he didn't want to admit to, just in case it was jealousy and the super soldier was actually doubting his fiancé.

"Keep an eye on Pete for me," he asked Thor as he turned to the stairs, smiling through his distinctive worry, "Don't let him follow, okay? And…there's some hot chocolate in my bag for him. Should be pretty simple to make."

He disappeared up the winding stairs, his bulk like an oversized teddy bear on a candy-cane pier rather than an Avenger. With instant speed he pelted to each of the rooms, opening them so he could peer inside and closing them in frustration, to the point where Peter needed to be physically kept in the living room instead of just distracting him. The boy's distress was similar to his father's as door after door opened, each one bringing him closer to the room he would be sharing with his fiancé.

Tony and Bruce were being as innocent as could be. They were chatting about Peter's tests and how they would develop a cage sufficient enough to contain him should the worst happen, but they weren't even on the same sides of the room. Bruce sat at the desk further to the left side, underneath the aquarium that was meant to help the billionaire sleep at night or distract him from it, whilst Tony was actually pacing near the huge window at the other side, staring at the slowly waning moonlight ahead as the snow began to thicken.

When they had just touched upon the tender subject of Peter's restraints, Steve burst into the door. His pale complexion still had hints of reddened hues to them, still frozen and numb with the frosty bite of the world outside, but he found it hard to care when he looked wildly at the men in front of him. On different sides of the room. Not looking at each other. Not touching. Just talking.

"Oh, Steve!" the billionaire smiled at him, making him feel even worse as he bounded up and gave him a gentle kiss, "There you are. Did you get the firewood okay?"

"Hm, firewood? Oh, yeah; it's downstairs in the lounge. What's…what's going on here?" he didn't look at them accusingly but, no matter how many expressions flicked through his eyes and tried to keep a sense of normality, Tony could instantly tell what he was thinking. Cool, calm rage descended in his mind. Bruce sensed the tension between them.

"Hey, here's an idea," he said as he collected the plans up, "I'm going to go downstairs and entertain Pete for a bit. Do we have hot chocolate? Ah, don't worry, I can find out for myself." With that he was gone, off to tell the team downstairs of the awkward situation and how he didn't expect them to be in their sights for a while. Whether they would be arguing or reconciling in that time, he didn't know.

"So," Tony wandered airily to the bed where he collapsed, as though his legs didn't have the willpower to keep him standing, "How long have you not trusted me?"

Steve walked towards him with a furrowed brow, "I've always trusted you. I still trust you."

"Really? Because the way I see it, people who trust their partners don't think that they're banging their friends when they're off to get firewood. That's one of the rules, I think. One of the definitions."

"It wasn't like that! I was just a little…worried?"

Tony laughed pitifully at the lie since, even at the best of times, Steve had been a completely awful liar, "Worried about what? Bruce turning into Hulk and coming after me? I think you would've heard it if that happened, and I'm damn sure I can look after myself!"

"Well, do you blame me?! You and Bruce have way more in common than you and me do – you both like science, you're both geniuses, you're both interested in stuff that just bores the Hell out of me and, God help me Tony, he's great with Pete. You guys have so much in common." The insecurity was something Steve never thought he had. He didn't think that he had found any reason to feel rivalled with Bruce, despite the fact it was so obvious the pair had way more in common than the super soldier could have ever hoped to have.

Tony watched as Steve crumbled on the bed beside him, head in his hands and mind far away from the interior of their cabin room. He was upset about something. Perhaps it wasn't exactly Bruce or the fact that the two had snuck off to their room to talk, but it was something. He found his fingers lacing through his hair as he smiled, kissing his lips gently.

"We have a lot in common," he admitted quietly, "But there's one thing you're forgetting."

Steve looked up and was gently embraced, "What?"

"He's not you. And I love you, Steve Rogers."


	28. Love makes Fools of Us All

That night, Peter slumbered in his new cabin room. It was adorned with beautiful woodland creatures and several little ornaments that Tony thought appropriate, many of which had come from a settlement some way up the trail, whilst the rest of the room was bathed in a silvery glow from the window's streaming moonlight. His small head rested on one of the plumped up pillows, unaware of the way his door had slowly creaked open and the faces peering in.

"Is he asleep?" one whispered as it loomed, "He looks asleep."

"Get the presents, quick – he might wake up!" the door swung open noiselessly on its hinges, revealing Tony in full pyjamas and his boyfriend close behind, their hands clutched over a burlap sack that they had hidden on their car journey. Grins broke on their faces; their boy looked so natural when he was curled up in his duvet, expensively bought from a designer shop many months beforehand.

They crept in without a word. The only communication was a quick glance towards one another, unspoken and yet conveying exactly what Steve wanted to do, which made Tony quickly grab the sack and place it at the end of his son's queen sized bed.

"Isn't he cute?" the soldier drawled as his fiancé went ahead with their plans, making sure that the carrot and mince pie were effectively bitten into whilst he kept one eye fixed on the boy. He smiled – it was nice to hear Steve talk about Peter like that, instead of likening him to a future football star or someone famous in sporting events.

"He's ours, of course he's cute." The tycoon reached down to put the sack against the post, stroking his boy's blanket before he gazed at Rogers, "You're cute too, Steve."

A light blush danced across his cheeks, "No I'm not."

"Yes you are! Cute super soldier; little Stevie Rogers," Tony's teasing was accompanied by an assault on his lover's arms, tickling lazily so that he wouldn't shriek and wake their sleeping angel.

"Stop that!" he pushed the hands away but kept a smile on his face, his lips touched upon his lover's nose whilst he let another hand slide up his shoulder. "You're cute."

"You."

"Don't argue with me soldier."

"Soldier? Shouldn't I be in prison by now?" another smile danced across Stark's face before he kissed Steve again, but that time slowly, "It'll be Christmas in a few hours. You know Pete's going to wake us up at some ungodly time, don't you?"

"I know; I can't wait!" that giddy joy on the leader's face was something Tony recognised. He recalled seeing it on the father's features during Christmas programmes, the ones that were made for feel-good family moments rather than actual entertainment. His heart skipped.

Once upon a time, he'd thought that those films were rubbish. He thought they were juvenile, stupid and unachievable, made for the profit and not to show families what they should be striving for during the holiday months. Now he realised that those perfect times were just in his reach, on the horizon and he was moving closer to it steadily.

"Steve," he caught him by the arm as they made their way out, his eyes sparkling, "You know, I couldn't imagine doing this with anyone else."

The super soldier turned to look back though, by the look in his eyes, he was likening their conversation to the one they had had earlier, "You don't have to say that; I know there's nothing going on with-"

"No, not that," he brought him closer to his face, "I meant it. There's no one I would rather have with me right now than you, Steve. Not Pep, not Bruce, not even my own dad. You're exactly who I want." Without thinking the billionaire put his hand to Steve's cheek, his eyes fixated on the ocean blue depths in front of him as their lips moved closer. They were about to connect through half-lidded eyes when suddenly, everything was pulled away.

"Daddies?" they looked down. Peter had woken up from his peaceful slumber, aware that his parents were near and that they had been chatting quietly to one another, so he had decided that sleep was best left until he had the chance to make himself known.

Steve smiled despite the want to kiss his fiancé, "Hey little man, why are you up? You should be sleeping!" Peter rubbed his eyes.

"Daddies wake Peter up. Daddies talking? Peter need hug."

The billionaire lifted their child to his shoulder where he sat like a King, perched with a huge smile on his face and his hands clasped around one of his brown furred teddy bears. His face was the picture of exhaustion – crescent moon pits were under his beautiful green irises, making it look as though some demon had punched him through the night and they were just unaware of the attack, whilst the soft blue pyjamas he wore were ruffled from his sleep attempt. Steve pecked his forehead gently, as though comforting him.

"Sounds like someone needs to be tucked back in and given his special lullaby bear, doesn't it?" his purr was more a hint to Tony who, because of the groan on his voice, knew exactly what Steve meant.

So they put him in his bed again, tucking him in as they began to sing a song, squeezing him in a bear hug that they had invented many months ago during the boy's inability to sleep.

"_**Little boy Peter, under the moon; sleep little Peter, sleep, we beg you. Night has come back and you must dream – sleep under the stars whilst floating on the streams. Sleep little Peter, under the moon; sleep little Peter, and we'll see you soon."**_

The child's eyes drooped down until they were fully closed, snoring softly despite all of the excitement around him. He hadn't even noticed the beautifully prepared sack just beside him, stashed away against his bed so that he could wake up and find it the next morning, his childish wishes fulfilled to the best of his fathers' abilities.

And, for Tony, that was particularly easy.

"Oh God, Tony," Steve's eyes were sprinkled with tears as he planted a kiss on their dark crested son's head, "He's so perfect. I just...I love him so much; how is this even possible? I never thought I could love someone as much as I love him." The tears broke free from his eyelids, so large that Stark wondered if they were out of pain or happiness, before he realised that nothing could be as frightening as love. It was raw, intense – unmistakable in its own way.

Which is why he put his hand on Steve's arm gently, looking at him with his comforting gaze, "I know babe, I know."


	29. Christmas's Black Morning

The morning started at an hour Tony didn't like. At six am they found themselves rudely awoken, subjected to a horrifying ordeal of a tiny cannonball-like person jumping on them and screaming to the heavens.

"Alright, alright!" the billionaire chuckled as he threw the duvet to the side, his smile like a radiant glow through the barely lit room, "Aren't you excited?"

"Presents!" his eyes, though sparkling with that childish innocence that Tony loved and tried his best to preserve, seemed to betray a sort of knowledge that it was his fathers who had planted those gifts rather than a fat man from snowy lands, yet if he knew he didn't say anything.

Steve smiled at his son before he glanced outside. It was dark still, impossibly so, granted that he didn't care too much for the iced fortress of the mountains when his son was so happy near them. He tilted his head towards it to show Tony, but aside from that they didn't mention it.

Downstairs, the team had wearily assembled themselves on the black leather sofas, alerted by Peter's screams that their day was starting and they didn't have any choice but to leave their beds. Bruce was making a pot of coffee when the fathers joined them, carrying the man of the honour on their shoulders as though he were a King among the peasants, his smile radiant through the throngs of sleepy faces around him, his eyes grateful despite their willingness to wake up so early.

"Merry Christmas!" came the rallying cry from all but Thor, who took it upon himself to ordain the holiday with his own special ritual. Instead of chocolate or cake he had tucked away a certain Asgardian treat, one that he had woken up early to make and perfect with what little ingredients he had around him. The strangely shaped muffin-topped piece smelled strangely like cinnamon.

"Look at all those presents little man," Steve smiled at the massive pine tree in the room, which he had put up soon after Peter went to bed and spent hours with the team decorating. It shined with beautiful baubles and danced perfectly with a few Christmassy trinkets he had found, wound up tightly with lights that Tony kept locked up in his car, whilst underneath sat a wealth of presents that any child would be glad to wake up to. The billionaire found a place on the edge of his leather sofa, eyes directed towards the child as he gazed at the lit fireplace just next to the Christmas tree.

Peter couldn't quite understand what was going on. He didn't want to open his presents or wait until the evening to do so – he just wanted to play with his team before they were all called away again, off on a mission that was more likely to claim their lives than anything else.

But he would do anything to make Tony smile, "Daddy help Peter?"

"Oh no Pete," he smiled back, "It's your job to start unwrapping everything. We're just here to watch and wait for our turn, okay?" but he could see the boy's eyes glinting, those dark green dots in the warmth glow like he had just committed the most awful of offenses. He couldn't possibly believe that Peter would want to do something alone, especially when it was called the 'Family holiday?'

So they turned from the presents and instead focused on the world outside, where the snow was continuing to fall and lock them into their idyllic little cabin. Peter's eyes went wide as he admired the blanket; who could have said that snow was a nuisance? He loved how it covered everything without mercy, carpeting the widest canvas he had ever seen in his life and making it suitable to play with rather than dangerous, hiding little surprises within the frosty exterior like it wanted him to investigate. With a puppy dog expression he looked at his father, his teeth on his bottom lip to make him seem more pleading.

"Please Daddy?" the billionaire couldn't resist that face, but his lover could. Steve wasn't interested in how the snow looked like an unspoilt canvas or how it continued to grow with every second they weren't watching it – the sun hadn't come up above the trees, and that meant it would be far too cold for his little soldier.

So Peter didn't argue when he replied, "Not for a while, Pete. Here; Natasha's going to make a cake in a bit, so why don't you go put your clothes on and we'll get ready for Christmas?" like a dart the child was off to his room, where he was certain he'd been packed appropriate clothes and a few dozen of the finest chef-related garments.

"A cake? I don't bake," the woman looked up at her friends in surprise, smudged makeup in the corner of her eyes and a generous lashing of lipstick that she had sense enough to apply that morning, "Steve bakes, not me."

"Yeah, but Steve didn't want to admit to the whole team that he's been perfecting a Christmas cake recipe," Tony's nonchalant words were met with a soft slap to the head, though his grin didn't subside. The entire team looked at Steve, wondering if his lover was just making it up or if his words actually had some truth to them.

The scarlet blush said it all, "I wasn't perfecting it! Just trying a few things out, I swear!"

"Well, on the manliness scale, that rates at about a 'dancing with horses while wearing sequins,'" Bruce said as he poured another piping hot cup of coffee, passing it to every one of the team members whilst Steve let the flush envelope his face. Why was it suddenly unmanly to be making cakes? Granted it was always his mother who had baked them, and his father preferred to keep himself orientated on the sports and various other man-related entertainments…

"You guys won't be saying that when the recipe's perfect."


	30. Smiling Through

"Peter, put down the spatula. Put down the spatula and step away from the oven."

The boy had a mischievous smile on his face, juggling the kitchen utensil with his powers as his father tried to put the cake in the oven. It had been a delightful game before – back when Steve was more lenient with what happened in his sanctuary, the boy had been allowed to play and juggle everything that he was given, but it seemed as though that wasn't permitted on Christmas. Well, at least, Rogers didn't want to risk it on Christmas.

"Tony, will you come help me with him?" the leader asked as he added some more chocolate chips to his masterpiece, not looking at Peter and his childish antics when he spoke, "He's being a bit of a handful."

The billionaire, who by that point had been focusing on one of his more inventive works, didn't want to be pulled from his trance so rudely. With a sigh he threw his protective facemask to the side, his thoughts on how Christmas could have been so quiet with such a young boy in the household.

"If you let him go play outside, he wouldn't be so bored." Tony's words were met with silence whilst his lover continued working. He almost felt bad for his son; he had promised him a family time away but, so far, they had been caught up in their own hobbies, which admittedly was Stark's fault as he had formed a brilliant idea during breakfast that he just couldn't let go. It was reaching noon by that time and even though the hobs and ovens were beating with Christmas dinner, he could tell his little angel was restless.

For a moment, he stared at Steve. The muscular back was hunched as he focused on his masterpiece, broad shoulders slouched with ease whilst his hands went about with their own invention, testing, touching, sampling the soft sponge that lay underneath them until he was truly satisfied with it. Blond hair was almost luminescent under the artificial kitchen light when Tony let his eyes rake through it, remembering a night some time ago when his hands did the same thing and their only concern was for each other. The white shirt he wore barely covered him – Stark wondered momentarily if he ever wore anything that fit, though he recalled a red number that was actually baggy on him due to being made for an obese man.

"Are you actually going to take him, Tony?" the sudden sigh pulled him from his trance, "Or are you just going to stand there staring at me?"

"Do I have to choose?"

Steve smiled at his words. It had been a long time since he simply enjoyed the simplicity of Tony, the way his sarcasm and questions made him both infuriated and loving at the same time, but his words remained. He couldn't focus on cooking when Peter was playing with his utensils.

Which is why he let out another sigh, "Yes, you have to choose."

"Then I go for secret option C; take you and him outside to play while Bruce takes over the cooking."

"Bruce can't cook."

"What better time to learn?" Steve turned to face his lover, to chastise him for his games and order that he finally did as he was told, but there were no words that came to his lips. Instead, he saw the perfectly trimmed goatee and black hair on Tony's head, the expectant smile that Steve wanted to slap and kiss, the relaxed demeanour that showed through his eased shoulders and his crossed arms as he looked at his fiancé. It was the exact thing he needed to pull his head from cooking.

Peter had stopped playing with the spatula by then, but neither father was watching him. The boy looked up sullenly at what they were doing, wondering why they were staring at each other and how they managed to look so in love, before he turned to his next plaything; the table, yet to be adorned with baubles and Christmas trinkets that Steve thought were important.

"You look good today," Steve commented as their son raised the table, his eyes blood red and his smile impish, "New clothes?"

"No. You just haven't looked at me properly today," Tony replies before he closes the gap in between them, looping his arms around his waist whilst he toyed with his lips. The world around them melted – Peter, the table, the cooking, all of it – nothing mattered when they were sharing a moment with one another, not even the little boy who had made them realise their feelings and enhanced them every day.

"Are you sure? I got a pretty good view of you changing."

"Changing, but you didn't _look. _Honestly, we need to schedule some down time soon."

"And that holiday was…?"

"Up time. Very, very up time."

Suddenly, there was a crash. The world rushed up to meet them as they turned around, catching sight of their Peter whilst he tried to set the table down gently. His grin had turned to a tight lipped frown but he wasn't scared, wasn't even crying when his super soldier father picked him up and began to kiss his forehead.

He was far more concerned with his boredom than anything else, "I think your daddy's right. You've been cooped up in the house without enough to play with, haven't you?" his eyes were softly gazing at his son when he spoke but, standing at the side with his hands clasped on Peter's locks, Tony knew he was partly talking to him, "Why don't we all go outside in the snow? All of us. Even Bruce."

"What's all this about Bruce?" the scientist came in dressed with his finest clothes, something red to prove festivity but didn't look like he was a religious nut, "Bruce is very busy reading his new science magazine. Why do you want Bruce?" that inane smile fell upon his face, as though he were a comedian rather than a highly reputable researcher.

"You're coming outside with us while dinner cooks to play with Pete. That's not a request; we're going to make today about Pete!" Tony leapt forward to the table and began putting the seasoning back into place, smiling through his trimmed goatee as he threw them a sideways glance, "It's time we stop working. Let's have some fun."

Peter smiled at his father, "Daddy, snow!"

"Yeah little man – it's time to play!"


	31. Unwanted Gifts

It was the time everyone had been waiting for – gift giving, and the moment they would be able to see Peter's grateful face as they passed him their presents. The child sat in front of the very heated fireplace, letting the flames' warmth lick his reddened and numbed facial features as the grownups behind him took their seats, their hands on cups of warm hot chocolate whilst they tried to get over their snowball fight and determine who the rightful winner was.

"You were clearly cheating Tony," Bruce pointed out indignantly before he took a large gulp of his drink, "No one throws that hard unless they've got some sort of super-advanced gauntlet hidden under their sleeve."

"But I showed you under my sleeve! There was nothing there!" the billionaire began to shuffle some of the colourfully wrapped presents around when his spoke, though his eyes never left the face of his friend. Those chocolate brown depths were hiding something; mirth perhaps, because they all knew he was lying through his teeth.

"You showed us the arm that you weren't throwing with," Steve pointed out from his seat, closest to the door just in case they received an unwelcome visitor and he would need to defend his family. His blue eyes met Tony's for a brief moment before the tycoon looked away, just knowing there was a smirk across his face that would give his position away, tell them that he had in fact been cheating and he had only done so to gain the upper hand for Peter.

The pine tree was overloaded with Christmas presents. Silently Steve knew that such things were unimportant and, in the long run, they wouldn't serve in making his little boy a better man, but he couldn't deny that the glinting excitement in Peter's eyes was exhilarating. He remembered having a pine tree in his tiny living room in Brooklyn, the presents stuffed under it with little red bows on top or perhaps a few lashings of artsy decoration; sometimes, he would even remember his mother's excellent cooking as the smells wafted through his two floored mansion, sampling each bit on his tongue as and when she allowed him to. Memories were what kept the world from going mad. He knew that one day Peter would cling to those thoughts of happiness, and recall upon them when he thought his own mind was collapsing under the weight of his reality.

Cheerful banter rallied the troops whilst the child was permitted one gift to open, long before the dinner had been properly served. The super soldier watched his son's reaction carefully, noting the way he inspected each parcel and checked how large it was before he moved onto the next one, occasionally comparing the individual, shinning paper that crinkled under his touch until he became bored with it. His lips mashed together when he came upon Thor's gift.

He sensed something was wrong with it. Energy pulsed through his fingers when he touched it. Something throbbed from underneath the red and gold wrapping. With a sense of foreboding the child tilted it backwards, his eyes careful to detect whatever was making that strange beat.

"Ah, that," Thor looked sheepishly from behind his Styrofoam cup, "It's…it was not my decision to bring it here, I can assure you. My brother-"

Tony immediately snatched the present from his child's hands, "Wait, what?! Loki gave you this?! Loki gave you a Christmas present for Pete, and you thought it would be a good idea to hand it over?" the fear in his eyes was something similar to a mother when they thought they had lost their baby, deep in the depths of all that was unholy or even in the small crowds of a shopping centre, his hands never moving from the throbbing parcel between them.

"My brother wishes our young spaceman no harm. He merely overheard my discussion of Christmas with one of the guards, and asked me to deliver a token of his goodwill to us. The gift is Asgardian." He added the last bit as though it would make a difference, as though it would make Tony forget the danger Loki had put them in and how he had manipulated Peter into trusting him.

Steve wasn't too impressed either. He understood the angle Thor was coming from – in fact, out of all those shocked faces lining the black sofas, he was the only one who would have considered giving Loki a chance. There wasn't a question for him that someone could change their stripes. There was just a question on whether or not they should trust him to change so abruptly, with so little research done on why he had felt the sudden need for reconciliation. He gave Tony a steely blue stare. It was enough to tell the billionaire what he thought.

"You can't be serious?" his mouth was agape as he gasped, unaware that Peter had cocked his head to one side and was resting it against the palm of his hand, "Steve, you remember what he did to Pete. You remember what he did to us, to us _all?" _he adds meaningfully to the team sitting around him, like they had forgotten the horrifying events of just a few months beforehand. They all took a look at the child that sat behind him.

No one could forget what Loki had tried to accomplish.

"I'm not saying we give him a second chance, but it's Christmas," the super soldier offered with that infuriating, half-hearted smile on his face. He knew that his dark haired lover wouldn't care if it was Christmas, his birthday or the Second Coming; it just mattered that Peter was safe and away from harm.

"So what?!"

"Christmas is a time of giving and, if Loki wants to give Pete a present, I don't see why not," he took a sip of the coffee beside him, since he didn't particularly like the taste of bitter hot chocolate, "It hasn't blown up yet, has it?"

There was a truth in his words. Slowly, Tony began to lower the gift to the floor, completely unconvinced that it was anything useful or even safe for his child to be playing with, but he made the deal with himself that he would snatch it up as soon as he found something wrong with it. Loki had almost destroyed the world. He had almost killed the team. He had tried to steal Peter. He wasn't a good man, no matter how many presents or good-hearted gifts he sent.

Peter couldn't help but let a small, "Yay!" pass his lips, eagerly tearing into the red and gold paper as though it were the most interesting thing he had ever laid his eyes on. With ease the wrapping fell to the floor, disappeared into shreds and remained as tatters whilst he kept his eyes focused, unaware of the fact his powers had activated slightly and given them a red hue. Thor noted that his hot chocolate was rising slightly from his cup – Bruce took the brief time to write something in the notepad beside him, never turning his gaze away from the child and his present.

Steve's hands gripped his cup in anticipation. He was suddenly thinking that his move was wrong and soon there would be some horrifying magical construct in the middle of their cabin, Hell-bent on either killing them or ruining the mood of their perfect holiday. Fury held his breath. Clint clicked his tongue. Natasha was silent. Everyone was still.

Except for Peter.

"What is it, Pete?" his dark crested father peered over his shoulder once the present was demolished, the boy hiding whatever he had retrieved closely against his chest. He could hear a whimper against his lips as he clutched it.

"Me!"

"Oh, wow," Bruce's eyes were the picture of delight when he looked at his nephew, the new gift in his hands and then Tony, smiling brightly despite the situation, "It's a doll. A doll of Peter. With his eyes red."

It was a doll; however, not quite with the description Bruce gave. It had deep red eyes of course - that much was true – but it also had a perfectly stitched cape on it, as though the god had spent hours trying to make it just right. The doll was wearing some sort of Asgardian garb made out of fine green silk, similar to what Loki had worn when he was a boy and what he had been mercilessly teased about, before the child noticed a special message stitched in a heart-shaped addition. He read it with pains.

"Peter…is…good…" the boy's voice vibrated with his valiant struggle to read aloud, though he found no problem understanding it, "He…is…strong. I…want…to…meet…him…on…e-qual…terms…faith…Loki."

There was a silence. Tony didn't want to believe what he had just heard, didn't want to believe that Loki wanted to speak to the boy again or even thought about him anymore. It was terrifying. It wasn't fair that Peter had to go through that.

But Thor knew something; Loki would never let the idea go.


	32. Tricky Situation

That night, all was silent in the cabin. Winding down from the fervour of Christmas, Peter had fallen asleep on the wrapping paper of all of his presents, many of which were scattered about him and looked as though they were meant for a range of different children, not just their young Avenger.

Bruce had bought him a more advanced DNA splicing kit; Natasha's gift consisted of a few jewellery pieces and a kit of make-your-own something; Fury had extended his hand to give a black leather coat whilst Thor had given him his own little hammer, granted it wasn't the same as his magical Mjolnir. Clint's present wasn't meant for pleasant company but he had tried to justify it, stating that every small child needed a super-deadly arrow creating kit. None of them had the energy to dispute him. Besides, Peter had looked so excited when he opened it.

"One successful Christmas," Tony toasted Steve from his seat at the dining table, where there were still the remnants of their dinner and the smells of roast still lingered in the air. The disorganised muddle in front of him was frighteningly familiar – the billionaire was reminded of his workspace back at home, heaving with all manner of unfinished projects and bits and pieces he'd left out of his inventions.

"And you didn't go overboard with the wine!" the super soldier's praise made his lover smile, "That's your last glass, right?" the smile was instantly replaced with a 'typical' roll of his eyes, his lips back on the rim of his wine glass as if to confirm it. "Pete seemed to like his toys."

"Yeah, but he didn't even get our main present."

"That's because the main present was huge, and a building. He loved his little uniforms, though," Steve manoeuvred his fingers around his own wine glass to point at the gift, which was a large collection of all the Avengers' costumes. Steve's, Tony's, Thor's; the selection was all there and, even better, they were safe, meaning that they both didn't care about how much the boy played with them.

"So…" the billionaire had waited for the perfect opportunity for their impending discussion. He placed his wine glass down on the cream table cloth, in between two gravy-soaked plates and the remnants of what had once been a roast lamb, before turning his gaze towards the man he loved. They were both thinking the same thing; he could see it reflected in those oceanic blue eyes, the depths of which were alive with exhaustion.

"You want to talk about Loki?"

Tony could only nod in reply, though he had a strategy for why he was mentioning it then. Steve was exhausted – if he didn't have the presence of mind to argue, perhaps the tycoon had a chance to turn him against the whole 'Loki-turning-over-a-new-leaf' thing.

The leader sipped noiselessly on his drink before he put the glass down, his eyes momentarily away from his lover's face until he turned them back on him. Suddenly Tony remembered the reason for their trip, the reason that they needed to get away from superhero life and focus on what really mattered, but he couldn't let such a discussion slip away. Not when Peter was concerned.

"What about it?"

Tony rested his arms on the table, "You don't really think Loki's turning good, do you? I mean…it's ridiculous. Loki's evil. He tried to destroy the world, for God's sake!" the look of remembrance spread through Steve's eyes when he gazed at the billionaire, silent, watching as though his boyfriend was really a film and he was trying to guess the outcome.

Sometimes, that's what it felt like.

"I don't know," he eventually sighed after what seemed like an age, "Maybe. We've got to give the guy a chance for it at least, otherwise we're just as bad as he was. Better to make a friend than keep an enemy."

"But it's Loki! And why would he send Pete a present if he's trying to turn good? Why not just send us a postcard or something? Seems suspicious that he'd go straight to the kid he knows has super powers, especially after…"

Steve didn't want to relive those awful times. He didn't want to remember the death of Coulson a few years beforehand, the theft of his little Peter and the fact they had to chase him all the way to Asgard, although that was exactly what Tony was getting at. How could they begin to trust the man who had done so much harm to them? How could they welcome him with open arms when that question of his loyalty would niggle, and he'd never have the absolute trust of his teammates?

But he couldn't let Tony win their argument, not again, "He's probably trying to apologise for what he's done. He hurt Pete the most out of all of us. He manipulated him way more than Clint, and there's not much you can do for a kid when you want to say sorry except buy him presents."

"Yeah well, it's a pretty weird present to give him. What, a doll that's shaped like him using his powers?" Tony glanced over to their resting little boy. The team had gone out to grab some extra supplies from the settlement further up so, for the time being, they were alone, which was just the way they wanted it to be.

"Loki doesn't know Pete that well. Better to give him what he knows than take a guess, right?"

"I can't believe you're actually defending him Steve! Of everyone here, I'd thought you'd understand where I'm coming from!" the dinner sat uncomfortably in Tony's stomach as he leant forward, his fist clenched on the table's edge like he needed some sort of support, "He will do anything to get his claws into Pete again, and then where are we? Chasing after them? Going across to Asgard to try and rescue him? The universe? Further?!" his eyes pleading when he leaned forward, his voice turned to an angry whisper, "What if Loki kills him? What would we do then, hm? Just…just forget about him?!"

There was a silence between them. Tony straightened himself up, eyes fixated on his lover as he began to gulp down some more wine, knowing that he would either get a reprimanding or have to listen whilst the super soldier broke down before him, but he didn't care. He wanted his Peter to be safe, no matter the cost. Steve was a big man. He could control his own emotions.

Something warm touched his hand. He looked down only to be confronted with Roger's thumb rubbing circles into his palm, his thumb tracing the lines of it gently as he tried his best to comfort the billionaire. Instantly he eased – it was something only Steve could do, to calm him with one action and that heart-fluttering smile.

"You're panicking." He noted simply, like his genius boyfriend wasn't smart enough to know. "You're cute when you panic."

"Well, get ready for a whole heap of adorable then, because I'll panic until my face turns blue!"

"You mean like when we wouldn't let Pete have another five minutes in the park and he cried until he was purple? Come on Tony; you're too old to be having tantrums."

"It's not a tantrum, Soldier Boy!"

"Oh, and here comes the name calling."

"I'm just worried about Pete! He's too little to be involved with Loki and there's a lot we don't know and even Thor seemed uneasy about it and…and…"

"And the sky might fall and we'll have a picnic about it," Steve's smile came back to him as easily as it had left, his lips on his lover's hand before he muttered, "We'll give Loki a chance. Thor can take Pete to see him – supervised, before you give me that look – and we'll have the whole thing recorded. It'll be safe. I promise you."

Tony looked back at the sleeping little boy, completely unaware of what was going on beyond his fortress of shinny wrapping paper, oblivious to the danger he could have soon been stepping foot in. He was too young for Loki to be playing the mean Trickster. He was too young to step into such situations with a clear understanding of what he could be getting into, especially when they had seen what could happen.

But Steve's eyes soothed him. The oceanic blue depths were enough to make him speak, as if on auto pilot, "Fine, fine! We'll let him go there. But…but…I want to be outside the cell. I want to go with them."

"Are you sure…?"

"I'm more sure than I've ever been in my life!"


	33. The Origin

**A/N; I know this is a huge update, but I've been asked to better explain why Peter has these powers and what brought him to Earth. This chapter explains his origins; I'd really love to hear some feedback about this and what you guys think so, if you can spare a moment to write a review, I'd greatly appreciate it. Thanks!**

* * *

Thor strode confidently down the hallways of his Asgardian prison, clutching the young Peter to his chest as he called a merry greeting to his guards. They returned with whoops of delight despite the burden in his arms, whom they all remembered to be the accomplice to their downfall some months before hand, the unwilling spectacle that Loki had kidnapped with the intention of usurping their throne.

"Be careful; keep your eyes on Pete," Tony muttered whilst he walked behind the God, "I don't trust Loki, no matter what Steve says. He even makes a move – one move, Thor – that you think means he's trying to manipulate him, you take my boy out of there and throw that brother of yours in the deepest dungeon you got."

Thor rolled his eyes as he sashayed past overtly dressed men, their metallic grey helmets like massive exoskeletons and their capes like flowing rivers behind them. The billionaire couldn't help but admire it; the different shades of purple and green certainly clashed but, since they seemed so proud to be wearing it, the Asgardians almost made the colour code work, as if they were the masters of fashion rather than the victims of it. It was almost enough to distract him.

But there were more pressing matters at hand.

"Oh, and I don't want him to be too close – Loki's chained, right?" his questions were beginning to irritate the nodding God, who knew that his mother had taken extra special care with Loki's restraints and his father had made certain his magic was weakened. Peter was incredibly safe. He didn't know how to better explain that.

"You have no reason to fear, friend," Thor offered after what seemed like a barrage of questions, "I am to be present for the entirety of their talking. If I am called away to an urgent matter, which I can assure shall not happen without prior intergalactic tensions, my mother shall take my place and supervise the pair." He gave Peter a light squeeze to calm him. "My brother wishes to apologise. There's no other motive."

Still unconvinced, Tony followed them to the end of the radiant hallway, glowing silently with all manner of magic and technology that Earth hadn't yet developed. He noted that some of the men were at least eight inches taller than him and the women looked as though they could have been Goddesses, granted he had been a great lover of women before. Perhaps it was just his mind going into overdrive…

Gold shimmered all around him as they strode towards the door; the entrance to the only place Loki was completely powerless, the very room he had been birthed in. Even the greatest magic wielders didn't understand why the prince lost his skills there but they used it to their advantage, quite possibly because they knew he was a ticking time bomb.

"Wait!" the men paused with Thor glancing behind him, looking silently at the billionaire behind him. "I'm not sure about this. We don't know what Loki wants, what he's planning. He could be trying to case us up again."

The God let his eyebrow rise whilst Peter squirmed against the blue Asgardian leather, eager to see the uncle he hadn't spoken to in a while. The growing anxiety was gnawing at him – he wanted to see Loki again, to touch his face and see that smile he knew existed.

Soon enough the men had finished their discussion with Thor the victor, and the billionaire pressed his lips against Peter's forehead for what felt like the millionth time. He gave him a warm smile to try and calm himself, though the child didn't need it.

"Good luck bucko!" he muttered before suddenly they had entered the room, which was a simple grey number with a single rectangular table and chairs. Loki sat on the one opposite them; he had allowed his face to fall when he saw Thor there but after he caught sight of Peter, a grin fell upon him, the white teeth showing as they took their frozen seats in front.

His chained hands wanted to clap, yet he had to settle with a, "Little one! You received my message!" the child looked at his appendages whilst his uncle gingerly set him down, just close enough to touch the chains with his fingers. Sadness flowed through his eyes.

"Hurt?"

Loki didn't understand at first. His eyes met Peter's briefly to try and comprehend; when he caught a glimpse of the boy's hand upon his and finally felt the softness of his skin, his smile only wavered.

"They are not painful little one, though they look as such. They are only tight enough to entrap me."

"Loki safe?"

Another waver of the smile met with Thor's furrowed brow, "I am quite safe within my prison. Might I ask you how you are feeling?"

"Peter okay. Scared for Loki. Miss Peter?" the child reached forward and hooked his finger in the God's, his face like the angelic beacon of hope as he gazed up at his beloved uncle. Loki found peace within those eyes; they were beautiful, deep and forgiving, all of the things that the demoted prince hadn't found within his own home. He wanted to vanish within the depths of Peter's eyes. But he had to focus on what he was saying.

He brought his hands up as far as he could, earning a quick jump from Thor and a passing glance between them, "I have called you to apologise. I wronged you those months ago, and my mind has not been clear since. Your cries are still under my skin. I cannot sleep for the screaming. The Tesseract burned you and I've turned myself into more of a villain than I predicted; do I warrant your forgiveness? Can you bring yourself to pardon my actions?" he wasn't hopeful. There was a darkness within him that he knew he couldn't control sometimes, but he so wanted to start working on it.

Peter reached forward to stroke his face. His small frame leaned over the cold metal table, his stomach frozen to its touch but he didn't care, since he was comforting Loki and that was all that mattered to him. The dark-haired God's complexion was fraught with tiredness; he had thought of that moment many times before, but never once had he conceived its warmth. The soft fingertips etched the contours of his face as though he were a perfect masterpiece that Peter admired, and he loved each second of it.

Suddenly, the fingers withdrew. The child pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead, groaning softly under his breath like he were in pain and Loki had just reminded him of it. Thor was quick to allow his eyes to smoulder as he grabbed Peter's hand, his eyes accusing when he looked back at his brother.

"What have you done?!"

"Nothing, my brother! I swear it!" the demoted prince gasped, "His…his power. It happens to me on occasion. It swells within us like a parasite; it takes what it can find and it leaves us with nothing, until finally our bodies give out and we are the same. This is only temporary. But it seems as though you have brought young Peter to me on one such day." His hand instinctively reached out but the chains stopped him, tightening with their magical ability as he gazed at the boy. "Are you alright?" he asked softly.

Peter's green eyes were tinged with redness, "Power. Hurts."

"I know, little one. You've a very special ability. Does the magic hurt you often?"

He shrugged in reply. The grey room around them was like a cage, silent and encasing, granted he hadn't noticed it before Thor put him down. Loki's eyes were sympathetic but at the same time, bewitched with a twinkling interest.

"May I see?" he asked softly. Peter looked up with a smile whilst he nodded, and then he clutched Loki's arm. All went black…

The God let his eyes slowly flutter open. His hands were free from their Asgardian chains when he looked down at them, completely unrestricted so that he could move them and conjure up his magic, though he was more concerned with the liberation of his being. He was no longer in the prison room – instead, he was floating in the starry abyss of space, almost like a star himself as he glided between the planets. What type of magic was at play? He had never seen something so powerful.

"You're confused?" Loki looked up to see Peter in front of him, but with the familiar red eyes and streaked black hair, "You asked to witness my power. Isn't it what you expected?"

"You are not the little one. Leave him, beast!" the God snarled, trying his best to bat the image away and save the child he barely knew. He couldn't understand how he had come to be in space or how everything seemed so tranquil; all he cared about was Peter, his nephew, his perfection.

The thing smiled in amusement, "Calm yourself Loki – I am indeed Peter, and I am also the creature you once sought to control. I am Osmostinos. We're one of the same, Peter and I."

"You? You are Osmostinos?!" suddenly the God felt naked in his Asgardian clothes, tinged green as though they were envious of the power, "Do you wish to kill me?"

"Kill you? Why would I do such a thing?" his hand flicked out and the universe started to bend around them, giving Loki a seat in which he could sit, "You've done very little to us."

"I used the Tesseract on Peter. It was my doing that he felt such pain and was torn away from his family."

"Yes, he was taken from the Avengers for a time. Sad but inevitable. You did exactly as the universe needed you to do, granted you weren't aware of it and it certainly wasn't planned."

A worried expression danced across Loki's face. His pale features were fraught with concern as he gazed up at that thing, that entity that he couldn't believe existed and thought was a figment of his imagination.

The small voice that replied wasn't his own, "Then why do you bring me here?"

"Peter wanted me to show you our power. His power. He thought you should know; he doesn't blame you for what you did. He loves you." Loki smiled despite his fear. The thought of the child's forgiveness spread a strange warmth through him, though he couldn't determine whether that was selfish or noble.

"I am thankful."

"But you must know something about my young host," the thing sighed like it had human emotion, "He wasn't always this powerful. Once upon a millennia ago, he was just as weak as a new born infant on his mother's bosom. In fact, he was weaker."

"I…I do not understand?" the God felt the universe twist as he sat back against the seat, which felt strangely cold for something made of stars, "Peter is not the chosen one?"

The entity flicked his boyish hand to bring them to another scene. It was a beautiful land of luminous air, so soft under the weight of a warm sun that Loki swore he felt his shoulders ease, but it wasn't for the tranquillity that he let a sigh pass. A woman lay on the cobbled stone path in front of them, stretching far beyond the horizon and bordered by a flock of beautifully odd yellow flowers, who screamed so loudly that the floating umbrellas of dandelions tried their best to avoid her.

The God leapt forward to see if she was in pain, but was surprised to find his hands passed through her. She was like a spectre. She wasn't there in reality but, for the time being, Osmostinos had conjured her to show his guest something; something that had haunted him for a long time.

"What is this?" Loki asked as the shrieks continued, "Why does she cry so loudly? Please, help her! I cannot take this pain!" his begs turned to whimpers before his hands shot to his ears, his face scrunched as it had done when he was a child whilst he tried to fight the noise away.

Osmostinos didn't move his lips when he replied, keeping his eyes fixed upon the brown haired lady in front of them, "She weeps for her baby."

"What is wrong with it?!"

"Her womb is inhospitable. It lives, but only for a short while." the boy walked towards her and stood at the head, where her face was hidden and the white silk of her dress flowed in the breeze, "With each passing moment, it grows weaker. It hurts her to know that her child is passing and it's her fault for it – her own motherly attributes are killing her young, but she can do naught but weep."

Loki felt a pang of anguish go in his heart, but he kept his hands to his ears, "Save it, then! Save the baby and allow her peace!" Osmostinos smirked as though he had anticipated the answer, which only caused his guest to become more furious, "Why do you smile at me? You are heartless! You watch her weep and you smile!" the smirk disappeared.

"I felt such pain at her weeping many years ago," he bent down to stroke the soft, flowing hair splayed out before him, "I heard her from my keep. My sister ruled this galaxy – my sister was named Miner. She couldn't hear this woman's cries, nor did she care to try."

The God's eyebrows rose. Without thinking he stepped towards the lady and spoke, granted he wasn't surprised when he found she couldn't hear him.

"Peace Loki; she found her answer," he looked up to see Osmostinos snap his fingers, and suddenly they were in another scene. It was a warm kitchen with a fire at one side, tiled magnificently with mosaic-like blue decorations and adorned with a wonderful black stove, where the woman was standing as she rocked something they couldn't see. A man sat at the wooden table in front of her; he had a terrifying similarity to Anthony Stark, someone that Loki both despised and admired for the part he played in his downfall.

"Is she…?"

"Yes, Loki. She gave birth to the child without complication," Osmostinos reached forward and seemed to manipulate the air around them, causing the woman to turn and reveal her beautiful face. It was like a china doll had been painted, brought to life by some magic before they let her go on her way, set on becoming a mother with a handsome husband at her side.

"How is that possible? Not a moment ago I saw her weeping, felt her anguish that her…her boy…" he looked at the squirming baby in her slender, white arms, so small and helpless that it almost made the God sob as he stared. Its shrivelled face was instantly loveable, its cries beautiful to his ears.

Osmostinos allowed him to drink the sight for a moment, "I ruled in the galaxy next to this one. Our father was once the King of the Universe; he felt it crack under his leadership and, as a way to make sure it didn't suffer for his mistakes, he sacrificed his children to it, so that the people might have lived under our guidance. There were many of us. I took leadership of a galaxy plagued by disease and gave my energy to it, which gave them power that I hadn't intended."

"The aliens before…" Loki's face was plagued by realisation, but he wasn't able to continue.

"This woman's cries – her name unknown to me, even to this day – were so loud, I heard it from my own throne. She begged someone to save her son and her marriage, as she'd be denied the right to ever bear young again if her firstborn died. I couldn't help but weep with her…I couldn't help but feel my heart break with compassion."

Loki straightened as he gazed at the family, "And so you answered her."

"Yes," Osmostinos leaned forward to stroke the baby's face, so similar to his despite its prune-like appearance, "I left my people so that I might have saved one life, and I did just that. Peter became stronger in her womb as I entwined myself with him, coating his brain in whatever energy I was made from."

There was no answer from the God. Instead, he was contented to stare at the people in front of him, their faces smiling at they stroked their new arrival and chatted to each other about their long lives ahead. It was a warm scene. But he knew it had to end badly.

So he turned back to the thing behind him, "Show me."

"Show you?"

"How it came to pass that Peter went to Earth. I want to see."

"That…that is tender, Loki. I don't think you should pry in those times."

"Show me what happened to my nephew!" his demand was laced by rage whilst his fists clenched, jaw set like a vice, "I command you!" the child flinched slightly, moved by the passionate fury that dictated Loki's movement and the smouldering fire that danced within his eyes. It couldn't deny him the right. It just hurt to watch the same scene again.

Another wave of his hand brought them to the previous scene. But instead of luminous air and sluggish peace, the sky was filled with fire; the air, filled with screams. Thousands heaved along the thin cobbled paths and stomped the flowers that had once stood so proudly, crying in fear as explosions went on around them. Loki was disorientated – he couldn't make out anything between the muddle of faces or the flurry of movements, each one made with such intent that he couldn't tell who the attackers were.

He was dragged towards what seemed like the edge of the world. A single silver pod sat on the withered grass around them, where the woman was clutching her baby to her chest and allowed juicy tears to drop down her cheeks. The Tony-like man beside her had blood pouring from a wound above his eyes but, as though it were just a paper-cut, he ignored it to press a kiss against his son's cheek. The baby didn't even cry at the noise. He just looked up expectantly at his parents with those big, green eyes.

"Never forget that we love you, special baby," the woman wept as she pressed another kiss to his button nose, "We trust that you'll be safe out there. You are protected by something, and I just hope that it keeps you well." Her voice choked again before her husband took over, his voice much stronger than hers ever was.

"Baby boy," he smiled through the blood and tears, "Remember us, I beg you. Remember your Mummy and Daddy. Remember your home. Remember everything except this moment right now, and you'll live a happy life. You are my immortal prince. Be safe, my son."

And with that they put him in the pod, closing the lid slowly as though they couldn't stand it before they threw it to the skies. With a squeal of energy it charged towards space where it would glide aimlessly for years, its wait for the Avengers to be born as long as the goodbyes his mother had wept. The pair had stood watching that spot until they met their ends.

Loki cried out when a blob-like creature brought the man to his knees and forced him to watch as it killed his wife, right before it put the curved sword to his throat and ended his noble life. The scene ended. They floated in space once again, but in a much more enlightened state.

"My Peter…" the God murmured after the silence had droned, "You were in such danger…"

"I protected Peter to the best of my abilities. We talked in his mind when he was scared, and I told him stories to keep him entertained. His sleep was long. He grew, but only to the extent I would allow him – he may be immortal, but his growth should have been far quicker." Osmostinos gestured to his three year old form.

"Let me hold him!" Loki jumped forward…well, swam through the vacuum, "Let me hold Peter! I must tend to him!"

"Thor would never allow for it. You can't tell about this; it's Peter's wish that his fathers do not know until he is at least a little older."

"This is traumatic! How can they not know?!"

"Allow him this service! Doesn't he deserve it?" the creature wiped a tear from his red eye when he spoke, "I understand your pain, but think for a moment. I had to listen to him cry. He wanted his mother and his father. Soon enough, when he started to forget, I told him not to worry; they were a figment of his imagination and nothing more. Was I in the wrong? Was I cruel for what I did?!"

It was a moment before Loki realised he was being asked a question, and a moment more until he realised there was something Osmostinos wasn't telling him. With the last strands of his sanity the God turned to him, braced for an attack that he was sure would ensue, his chest puffed out whilst he found the words to the question he asked.

"Miner, your sister," he said tactfully, "She was not furious for what you did?"

Instantly the entity flinched, "You've no business asking about my sister."

"So she was."

"…Yes." He turned to face the starry vastness behind him, dotted by a few galaxies that were just out of reach, "She allowed my saving of Peter, but at a cost. She banished me from hearing her and turned my father against me, whom I haven't heard since I became one with my beloved host. My brothers and sisters fought my corner – they begged him to change his mind but…but…"

"But he was adamant. I understand your pain," Loki crossed his arms across his chest as he thought of his own pig-headed father, though he forced himself to remember that he was an adopted child.

"I feel nothing now. Once there was chattering that kept me connected, something that the humans have created on their computers…a social network almost, where my only friends were my family, and they were comforting. I listened for millennia. No words. No voices. No sounds. Nothing. I was truly banished from my Godliness."

"And how did it pass that you came to Earth?"

"It wasn't my first choice," he admitted sheepishly as he let a grin develop, replacing the saddened frown he had worn before, "I was planning on journeying to Asgard and integrating Peter in society there, but my brother – your God that you don't worship – he was kind enough to direct me to Earth. He told of the Avengers. It was difficult without hearing his voice, but I followed the signs and found us both in the arms of Anthony Stark. He's a good man."

"He's a fool."

"Perhaps for you, a son of Jarinta," when Loki gave him a confused look, Osmostinos explained that it was the name of his brother before he got back to his story, "But for a son of my weakest brother, Talihina, he was certainly admirable. Talihina has sent me signs before that warn me my time is coming, but I don't need them; I can feel myself being absorbed by Peter, and I am grateful for it."

The God was confused again, which was becoming an insufferable trend for him. He didn't like not knowing what was happening. He didn't like being kept in the dark and not understanding what seemed to be clear instructions. It reminded him too much of Thor.

"Absorbed?" he eventually asked, noting that no pitiful look passed the boy's soft features.

He smiled weakly, "His mind is growing used to my energy. Slowly, he can tap into it more and his body can take the power, so I'm losing more of it to him. With each passing day I feel it and I think…I know I'm dying. Peter will one day have absorbed me fully and I will no longer be able to communicate."

"So…your death is possible? It is a factor in the universe?"

"My death is just as sure as the humans, though perhaps not Tony and his team," another smile, "Whilst in my company, I have gifted them with something that pains me to give – immortality. They shall take care of Peter long after I'm gone. They don't know of this gift yet. In time they will, when Peter feels that he must tell them and his communicating skills have developed somewhat."

"And where will you be then?"

"For the humans, their lives are recycled and reincarnated through Talihina. Once the world ends, they shall become one with my brother – aware, but one. For Asgardians, Jarinta has created a realm in which you should flourish and enjoy the afterlife. For Peter's kind, it was Miner's secret sanctuary that grew fruit and perfection existed everywhere. For me?" another waver, "For me, I must return to my father as a whisper of my former self. He will either annihilate me or allow me refuge in his arms, where I should remain until I became yet another child."

Loki couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the entity. It may have been something intangible and delicate, yet it seemed as though it had more humanity than a single one of its family members. It had saved Peter's life long before Loki was aware of him.

For that, Osmostinos' had the God's thanks.

"We're to return to the prison room now." The creature waved his hand before Loki could say anything and, without warning, the world went black again…

"Peter?! PETER!" Tony's cries echoed through the prison room as he shook his now unconscious son, trying desperately to rouse him from whatever state of fainting he found himself. With lightning quick reflexes Thor picked the child up and attempted to hurry out the room, but Loki's face had risen before he could do so.

"Give me the boy! I must embrace him!" screamed the God when he remembered what he'd heard, how awful Peter's journey had been and all the things that had happened to him, "Give me the boy!"

Tony didn't even care about the demoted prince – they didn't look back as they whisked his son from the room, almost as if Loki wasn't there and they had just left the boy to play. His screams were loud enough to wake the dead, struggling against his chains that kept tightening around him.

"Peter! Peter!" he screamed, "I will not let you be silent in your pain, Peter!" there was no response from the men who were already down the hall, "NO!"


	34. Silence

The Tower was quiet by the time the heroes returned. Peter slept snuggly in his father's grip as Tony strode through the silent foyer, noting that Steve had finally taken notice of his words and switched the light off before they all went to bed. It wasn't for any economic or environmental reason; the billionaire just thought it looked more professional like that.

"You're late," he jumped when he heard the sleep-deprived voice, rising from one of the leather chairs near the fireplace where his business associates waited, "You said you'd be home five hours ago. I've been waiting up all night for you." Suddenly the chair span round to reveal Steve, who had sat there for hours waiting for his precious family to return. His blue eyes were bloodshot as he looked at Tony, relieved that he had come back with their boy, angered that he hadn't even called to say they would be late.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Pete fainted a few times when we were up there," he explained before he gingerly passed over the child, smiling when Steve's arms slowly enveloped him and brought the boy's face to his shoulder.

"He fainted? Did you do the technique?"

"We did. He woke up after that and had some dinner," the billionaire placed his open hand against Peter's cheek, his other hand on Steve's shoulder as he stood behind him and leant on the chair's back. A smile danced on his face – his son looked so peaceful there, resting as though he hadn't just faced his own kidnapper and the renowned God of Mischief. Perhaps he was stronger than Tony gave him credit for.

Steve allowed a similar smile to appear, the top row of his white teeth showing whilst he stared through half-lidded eyes at the child. "How was the visit?" he eventually asked, apprehension in his every word, "Did…did Loki act funny?"

"Not really. When Pete went unconscious Loki kind of spaced out, then when I pulled him out of there…well, he started going mad. Started saying that Pete wouldn't be 'silent in his pain,' whatever that means. It was weird." Stark's voice was shaky as he remembered the strange events; the fainting; the collapse; the sound of Peter's head smashing on the metallic table underneath him whilst Loki's eyes went distant. Nothing had made sense and when Thor screamed that he couldn't rouse the young boy, Tony thought he witnessed his whole world crumble.

It'd happened enough times before.

Steve's eyes snapped open as he turned towards his lover, mouth agape whereas his grip was tightening, "Silent in his pain? What? I don't understand – is Pete hurt?" their son laid eerily still within the super soldier's grasp, as though he wasn't sleeping but was truly gliding through the unknown depths of the universe, swooping past planets made of rock and atmosphere as he left his dotting fathers behind.

"Not that I know; he's fine Steve, really. It's just Loki trying to mess with our heads again," the billionaire was so sure of himself, so confident that he was right that it actually made his boyfriend feel a little better, granted his iron-like grip didn't weaken. Tony smiled weakly through the exhaustion layering his eyes, "Come on, it's time we all went to bed. It's like, what, one AM?"

"Try three."

"Wow, we really are late. And here I was thinking you were exaggerating!"

"Tony, I never exaggerate unless it's to do with saving the world – other than that, I'm truthful. You're the one who exaggerates." They moved as one single unit towards the stairs, with Tony's hand clasped firmly on Steve's shoulder as the leader kept his grip on their son, so softly snoozing that it was almost like they hadn't been talking at all. His eyelids threatened to rise with each thud of his father's foot, treading the soft carpet that had been specially put down to keep the child from hurting himself.

Stark's reply was soft whilst he put a kiss to his lover's forehead, "I know. I'm the eccentric and you're the wholesome, family-friendly, kick-ass superhero who keeps his shield squeaky clean. We've all got the memo."

Their wandering up the stairs stopped. Steve looked deeply into his fiancé's chocolate brown eyes, his own oceanic ones loving as his pupils began to dilate and his thin lips stretched into a smile, before he gently pressed his lips against Tony's. There was silence between them, filled only by the soft scraping of Peter's hair on his father's sleek black suit.

"You're not just the eccentric," he pointed out when their lips finally parted, "You're the billionaire that donates millions to charity every year; the man who does everything to make sure we're happy; the guy that's proud to have a son and a fiancé no matter who they are. You're Anthony Stark."

"Hm, that's not as good as a billionaire genius playboy philanthropist."

"Well, it's good enough to make me admire you," with that, the super soldier freed one arm so he could loop it around his companion's waist, pulling him in closely so they could share one more brief kiss before they were on their way again. Peter's eyelids remained shut. The Tower's slumbering teammates were left undisturbed. All was peaceful.

Except for Loki, who sat in his prison cell in Asgard without any hope of resting. He could see the boy in his mind's eye – the perfect, innocent little boy who had braved such terrifying realities, all in the space of a few short months – as he was placed gingerly in a large bed of silky covers, rested, because he didn't know that the God was still watching. Loki made a vow to himself as he slumped against the hard wall.

He wouldn't let Peter suffer in silence. One way or another, he would make Tony Stark listen to him, whether that took millennia. It seemed they had the extra time.


	35. Brothers in arms

Thor stepped into his brother's prison cell early in the morning, holding his peace offering whilst a sympathetic glint twinkled in his eyes. His sibling looked as though he hadn't slept all night with his gaunt face and the crescent moon darkness under his eyes, each like a curved cut that disappeared near his sockets and reappeared by his nose.

"You will not get information out of me, Thor," the God tiredly said when he spotted him, his body turned on the pitiful excuse for a bed before he could be bribed or coerced, "It is a futile struggle."

"I don't wish to get information from you; I merely thought that my gift should make you smile," Thor grinned from ear to ear as he held out the small box, tied perfectly with a familiar red bow that the pair had admired in their boyhood, wrapped lovingly by their mother like many of their previous birthday presents and a few of their father's rare rewards. Loki turned only to look at it, granted he refused to take it from his brother's hands.

The flickering green eyes locked onto Thor, "I shall not be coerced by gifts. The events between myself and Peter are mine to know, by order of a force much greater than you."

They continued their face off for a moment more, willing the other to crack and bend under the weight of their advisory's gaze, before Loki turned his head away to look at the surroundings he found himself in. How could the mighty have fallen so far?

Instead of golden chandeliers and glistening bowls of gemstones, there were only a few lambent, bare-circuited light bulbs that proved him with sight, and a fruit bowl on a discarded metal table that had been placed there for convenience. One chair sat on the right side of the square counter, leaning against the monotonous grey wall that had been cut and marked by the thousands of criminals before him, each one more dangerous than the last, each one stupid enough to have been caught. He sighed. His head hung in shame as he remembered his grand room in the palace; there, he had been allowed to make his own rules and have his own fun, without the incessant guard presence to interrupt him.

Thor's silence had begun to make him feel uncomfortable. As he scrambled from the bed and kept his gaze fixated on the floor, he remembered a time when they had been equals – a time when, for all intents and purposes, Loki had been his brother, and they had worked together on projects that were deemed important. Perhaps some people would have mourned the loss of sibling affection. They didn't. It was because Thor didn't believe it had vanished and Loki knew better than to trust something so black and white, since it had proved to be his downfall on numerous occasions.

"Shall you be accompanying your parents tomorrow?" a trivial thing to ask in light of the event, but he was running out of things that would sate Thor's curiousity, "There have been rumours amongst the guards, you understand."

"I am in Asgard until the occasion passes; you should be joining us, brother."

"I shall be there when the time is right. Until it is my execution they are vying for, I shan't be present."

His brother's eyes dulled with horror, the sort that was found in children when they realised the pains of growing up, "That will not happen Loki! The people have no power when it comes to your trial – on my honour as both a warrior and an Avenger, I won't let them have a say in the matter."

Loki smiled. He found it amazing how Thor could be so naïve about things, how he could stay so juvenile when the ruins of what he did laid all around them; destroyed buildings; totalled constructions; a world that was so prosperous brought to his knees. He cared of course, but it didn't hold a candle to the suffering he had put Peter through. Especially considering all he had withstood…

"Perhaps I can share your optimism one day," he muttered as he clapped his hands over Thor's shoulders, his eyes light whilst they stared into his, "But for today, you must leave and prepare yourself for the execution. I am quite busy."

"Busy? And how would you find yourself busy, brother?" the God laughed as he took a seat on the only one available, staring at the standard issue bed that criminals were forced to sleep on and wondering how they managed it with such a thin mattress. He thought that he might have snuck something comfier for Loki in, although he discarded it when he realised it would defeat the punishment.

His companion settled back down on his bed, elbows on the mattress so he could feel the frame's steel bite underneath, "You would do well not to pry. I am sure Mother used to say the same thing."

"Mother's not here. Will you just tell me Loki? I grow weary with your games and secrets!" it was true; Thor had been frustrated many times over the way his brother kept himself furtive, silent and speaking when their parents were curious or when he had done something wrong. The God had often envied that unique skill. Once, he had thought to teach himself, so they would be able to go about their cunning plans in a manner that would never be found out and Loki wouldn't feel so alone.

Another one of those dreams that never came to fruition. Loki had plenty of them.

"You'd do well not to pry, Thor," his repetition was calm, collected, "I am sure Mother used to say the same thing."

Their eyes locked again. Without speaking they heard each other's words, knowing that neither of them were going to succeed and they might as well have just accepted one another's argument, though how they would do that still remained a mystery. Their father had tried to teach them how to work in harmony but, with skills as different as theirs were…it was a thing they hadn't mastered.

"Mother's not here, Loki."


	36. The Icy Memory

The darkness was closing in on him. He breathed, but there was no air. He screamed, but no sound came out. He cried, but no tears leaked down his frozen cheeks. Instead, there was only the darkness and his being in an eternity of waiting, wondering who would crack first.

"He's a super soldier," voices came from the black abyss, "He'll be fine."

"That's not right. He was supposed to be back by now."

"Calm down Peggy. It'll all be fine – I promise."

Steve couldn't escape the past. He would try every night and fail the same amount, even though the dreams had become less frequent when he slept in Tony's bed. The billionaire tried his best to understand; it was difficult but, on the odd occasion he actually provided solace to his lover, they were closer than two people could be.

"Wake up Steve," Stark's voice loomed over the bickering between Bucky and Peggy, so sure and confident that the leader couldn't help but focus on it, "You're having a bad dream. Wake up, Steve. Come back to me." Slowly the darkness began to fade, leaving only himself and the faceless voice of his fiancé, allowing small pools of light to open all over whilst the frozen air of his dream began to race off.

"I can't see you," he murmured pathetically. An arm came to shield his face as the light directed straight into it, as though it were a beacon of hope through the otherwise bleak world he walked in.

"Follow my voice. Come back to me."

He followed it, if only to see the face of his beloved Stark again and be rid of the world of nightmares. Echoes of his past surrounded him with each footsteps – whispers, grunts, the screaming of dead soldiers as they realised their life was failing them. Had he helped them all find their deaths? Had he walked hand-in-hand with the government to make them cannon fodder, nothing more than a piece of expendable equipment?

Suddenly, the darkness vanished. It melted away in a shining white light, revealing Tony standing in what looked to be a beautiful garden and holding Steve's favourite flower to his nose. The tulip's scent drifted the leader closer to his lover, where he planted a soft kiss on his lips before taking the flower from him.

A smile danced on his goatee-covered face, "You followed my voice."

"I did," the super soldier replied, "What is this place?"

"This? Nothing really; Pete showed me it," Tony moved from the tulips below him to stride to a rosebush, with the most life-inducing roses were standing proudly on dark green stalks and sporting shaking red petals. His hands glided over them whilst he looked back at the soldier.

"Pete? What…where is he?"

Steve tried to follow him, but he found himself stuck. It were as if the tendrils of the trees had sprung from the ground to grab his feet, forcing him to stand still and watch as his lover appreciated nature.

The billionaire smiled through a nose-full of rose, "He's not here. He's playing."

"Where?"

"I don't know."

"How can you not know? Weren't you watching him?" the smouldering flame returned to Steve's blue eyes, which had been dulled with the iciness of his nightmare and the memories of all those dead soldiers. It flickered mercilessly as he locked his gaze onto Tony, who seemed to be enjoying the nature in a way that wasn't normal, in a way that was slightly too…un-Stark-like.

He didn't reply until Rogers tried and failed to move, "He's getting to be a big boy now. Pretty soon, he'll be able to join the forces. I bet you'd be so proud, wouldn't you? Our little man out there, fighting back 'evil' forces and killing all those innocent people, getting closer and closer to bullets firing everywhere…"

"What're you saying, Tony?! You know I never want that! I never want Pete in wars!" his screams echoed through the clear skies above them, the sun's warm rays on his back whilst he clasped the shield. Wait, shield?

He looked down to see he was dressed in full Captain America wear, with the uniform perfectly pressed and clean as the day he'd first donned it. The shield hummed with that familiar energy when he had received it; vibranium, the best of its kind. The sort of thing that weapons of mass destruction were made out of. Tony stalked towards him with a crazed look in his eyes.

"Look at you – Captain America! Big guy with the big shield," his voice was a teasing growl when he spoke, like he wanted to bring the Captain to his knees and knew he was the only one who could do it, "How many people joined the army because of you? Back then? Now? How many kids keep looking up to you and wanting to be the big bad soldier? You're killing them. You're killing our boy."

"No!" tears were building in the soldier's eyes, "I'm not! I'm not killing them!"

"How can you be so sure? Look at the facts; Pete's so happy to be the 'little soldier;' he goes into danger just to hear you say it. We almost got him killed in that HYDRA plant – wasn't even HYDRA, was it?"

"Tony, why are you saying this?!"

"Because I'm going to lose my son!" a fire jumped to his calm chocolate eyes, "You're going to get him killed and I can't do anything about it! He looks up to you! He wants to be like you!"

"He wants to be like you too!"

"Liar!"

Suddenly, there was a giggle behind them. As though they were in a horror film, the pair swung round, coming face to face with an image that had haunted Steve's mind for months. Peter was standing behind them…clad in a uniform of blue, red and white, with his own little version of the Vibranium shield. His smile was as soft as the day Steve had met him, twitching only slightly when he came to stand next to his Daddy.

"Daddy! I hero!" he squealed in boyish delight before he dropped the shield, showing a gun that had been concealed just out of sight. He pointed it at his billionaire father's head with an insane grin on his face, his giggle burning every natural thing in the garden and revealing the darkness that hid behind it.

"No!" it was too late. A shot rang out, a strangled cry sounded. Steve looked up just to see Tony falling to the ground like a limp rag doll, discarded by its little girl when she found something more interesting to play with. He rushed over to see the light dying from his lover's eyes, and without warning his casual clothes moulded into the Ironman suit underneath his touch, as though he'd just conjured it up from memory.

Tears dripped down Steve's cheeks onto his boyfriend's forehead, where he was planting dozens of kisses and begging him to come back, "Please come back Tony. Please…don't die. You can't die."

The arc reactor's light was suddenly gone and, with one last gurgle of life from his blue-hued lips, he choked, "I love you. Take care of the soldier."

"Steve! Steve, wake up!" Tony cried from the real world that they lived in, shaking the super soldier's shoulders in an attempt to rouse him, screaming his name louder than anything he'd ever screamed before.

He jumped from the bed as if there were something he could smash over his lover, which was how he came upon a sleek glass vase with his most recent bouquet of fan-bought flowers. Without thinking he threw the water over Steve, making him cry out and the blue eyes shoot open.

The leader looked up at his lover, "Tony?!" he gasped, as though they hadn't seen each other in years and that was their long awaited reunion, "Tony, you're alive?!"

"What? Yeah, of course I'm-" his lips were suddenly claimed in a bruising wet kiss, with the super soldier's eyes solidly shut against him as his hands found their way to his hair. The billionaire resisted the urge to gasp because he knew it wouldn't be welcome, granted he couldn't help but make a small squeak.

"I thought you were dead…I watched you die…"

"I'm pretty sure I'm still alive, Steve. Look," he demonstrated by pinching his hand hard, just enough to make his face wince, "Still kicking. It was just a dream."

The leader kissed him again, but softer that time. Instead of wanting to just feel Tony and know that he was still there, still with him, he was simply trying to find the solace that he so desperately craved from him. Their kiss went on for what seemed like hours before Stark broke it, his grin wider than the Tower's view.

His voice was etched by love, "You're cute when you panic."

"Shut up."

"What, too cliché?" his teasing was met with another soft kiss to the cheek, "What was the dream about?" the bed creaked under the weight of Tony as he dropped himself down, smiling happily through the worry lining his face.

Steve sighed whilst he took the seat next to his boyfriend, "First, it was the ice."

"The ice? Was I killed in the ice?" confusion came up where worry had once been, since it was in Tony's nature to wonder about things.

"You led me out. I walked and you were in some huge garden, said Pete had taken you there. Then you said he was out playing. I was so confused for a while – you'd let Pete go play by himself and didn't know where he was – then…then…"

"Then what?" the soft prompt made Steve look into his eyes, those chocolate depths that he had fallen in love with, "Talk to me; what happened?"

"You…you started saying that I was making people join the army. You said I was killing them. Then you said that Pete would be joining the army too and he'd be killing people, then he'd die because-"

Tony stopped him when he realised his voice was getting higher in pitch, a single kiss on his lips that made him melt into relaxation. Every tensed muscle fell as he allowed himself to forget for a moment, though quickly he went back to his description.

"Pete turned up in my uniform and he…shot you. You told me to take care of him before you died and that just destroyed me – I couldn't imagine my life without you."

There was love in the billionaire's eyes when he took his boyfriend's hand, but no kisses. He saw the tears that dripped down Steve's cheeks and remembered that he saw a side that no one else did of him, the side that was kind and gentle and didn't have to adhere to the stereotypes of men. That was the side Tony loved. That was the side that made Steve a good partner, rather than the solid stature of Captain America.

He smiled, "Pete's sleeping in his room. Come on; follow me."


	37. Messages

"Daddy?" Peter felt himself being scooped up by familiar, muscular arms, his slumber abruptly disturbed by a frantic pair of men and their barrage of kisses, "Daddies?"

"Sorry to wake you bucko," the billionaire purred before he switched on the light, allowing it to flood into the dark room so they could see the soft features of their son, his smile when he saw they were both present.

"I had a bad dream and needed a cuddle," the further explanation came from Steve at the side of his bed, who had been silent when he picked the child up and quick with his dry kisses, "We thought you'd be the best person for that." His smile was warm as he nuzzled deeply into his boy's dark locks, so similar to the man he loved and yet so distinctive; his were a great deal softer than Tony's were, curling perfectly at the tips even after his expensive designer cuts. "I love you, Pete."

He stared up at his father with a smile on his face. Instantly, the images of Peter clad in the Captain America uniform faded, and with it went to memory that he'd shot his father and stolen a spark out of Steve's life. Comforting smells of his son's pyjamas encased him as closely as the ice had done but he didn't struggle, didn't want to run – he just wanted to lose himself in the warm scent of Peter, with Tony's mixing in when the billionaire took the space beside him.

"I love you too, Captain Daddy." He struggled, but it was one of the rare times Peter made a coherent, fully-structured sentence, since his skills with the English language were slowly developing. Pride flooded Tony's chest as he looked done at his son, wrapped tightly in the arms of his fiancé and sporting those adorable fluffy blue overalls that Steve insisted were warmer.

It was then that Peter's fingers twitched. He looked around frantically for a moment, as if judging the situation that surrounded them, before that impish grin spread across his face and he allowed a little wriggle of his nose. With ease he separated his father's hands and jumped from his lap, landing on the floor with a thud before he skipped towards his toys.

"Hey, where are you going?" Steve asked, his hand snatched up by Tony whilst they watched their young boy. It was strange to be sitting on his bed in just a shirt and boxers, each one identically white, and his hair ruffled since he hadn't bothered brushing it, but he couldn't imagine getting dressed so late in the night.

"What're you up to, Pete?" Tony's eyebrows rose as he watched his son lay out toys, that grin on his face never wavering despite the level of concentration he needed, "I hope you're not getting them all out and expecting us to clean them up. You know that's your job."

He was rewarded by a sharp 'shhh' from the boy, who was concentrating harder on the toys than dozens of his research papers. The eyes that the men loved slowly began to burn with redness, losing the green tinge that he was known for whilst the toys started rattling around him. Steve's mouth fell open. It was hard to get used to the idea that Peter was so powerful, even though they had been subjected to it a number of times over his short residence with them. Whenever that sharp red glow came about – indeed, whenever Steve found himself watching Peter work – it surprised him no matter what the circumstances.

They watched as the toys lazily sprang to life. They did a merry little jig to the low hum of Peter's energy, each one with their own dance and noise to accompany it, before they finally fell to the ground in a seemingly pre-arranged pattern. Teddy bears, soldiers, action figures, physics-related kits and a few of his presents; they all lined up in a certain way, so precise in their order that Tony soon worked out what he was doing.

"Stand up," he ordered Steve before he did the same, his eyes fixed on the toys below them whilst his black t-shirt fell baggily over him, "It's…writing. It's a message. Well, aren't you clever?" he smiled towards his son, at the scarlet blush that slowly crept along his cheeks as Steve tried to scramble beside him. His confused frown curved into a smile.

"Peter will protect his Daddies. Peter loves you." He read with sparkling tears in his eyes, cursing himself for his own over emotional reactions before Tony's fingers entwined with his. They smiled in unison towards their son whose eyes still glowed so brightly, so strongly that they thought they were staring into the depths of the strongest energy rather than their angelic little soldier.

Steve smiled again. The memories of his dream were replaced by the thought that Peter was their son and nothing more – no matter how much he looked up to his father and how much veneration his character demanded, the boy had a mind of his own, a mind stuck on the right thing to do or the incessant amounts of physics that his billionaire father piled onto him.

Tony picked up his son as a sharp smile stretched across his face, the goatee scratching across Peter's forehead when he planted a soft kiss to it and looked over at Steve, "He'll be a prize winning author yet."

"In between the physics and football playing?" the leader chuckled with his hand on his lover's shoulder, "Yeah, that'll happen."

"Hey!" the defiance in their son's squeaky voice was adorable, "Write! Write!"

Tony ran a hand through the dark locks, teeth fleeting over his bottom lip as he muttered, "Don't worry Pete – he's just jealous!"


	38. Loki's Breakfast

Peter was the one who brought it up. It had started as such a normal day in the Tower, with everyone sitting down at the breakfast table whilst Tony tried to discuss his latest defence system, when the child had asked when he would be seeing Loki again. The silence was tense as the team turned to him, eyes bright with surprise and lips bitten in anxiety.

The billionaire managed to form a smile, despite how taken aback he was, "Don't worry about that, Pete. You won't be seeing Loki again." The boy instantly dropped his chocolate spread toast and looked up at the man, lips quivering as though he was beginning to miss his former kidnapper.

"Uncle Loki! See uncle!" he insisted whilst everyone else could only watch; it was a face off, and one that went on just between Stark and his son. No one wanted to get involved in something they had no business in.

Well, perhaps Bruce did. His wish to research Loki hadn't gone away through their trials with him, his want to stick a few needles in his skin and find out exactly what made him tick still strong, but he wouldn't allow such a dangerous specimen on earth after what he had done. The God of mischief had proven how little he cared for life. That couldn't change after one simple gesture towards Peter, with the doll shaped like him and the eyes stitched that wonderful crimson.

The child was clutching it at that very moment, "See Uncle Loki. See Uncle Loki soon. Please?" he turned his green gaze to the people around him, to his waiting team, "Please?"

Steve's heart almost broke as he served up the remainder of the bacon, his eyes just as fixated on Peter's as the rest of the team's were. There was no doubt in his mind that Loki was dangerous and undeserving of the boy's attention, but he couldn't help but feel a sharp want to give him what he so desired. The pleading didn't help their situation. He turned to give Tony another serving of the fried meat, knowing full well that it was one of the few things that kept his mind clear. It was with a mouthed 'thanks' that his lover acknowledged him.

"Pete…Loki's…" the billionaire brought his leg down from its original position, his bent knee stretching out as he crossed his arms over his chest, "It's too dangerous to keep you together. He's not a nice man, little guy. I know you think he'd give you hugs and kisses and presents but that's not how it works, not with people like him. We're just trying to protect you."

It was how it worked in Peter's mind. He was sure of physics equations and advanced types of medicines – why then, if he was trusted with knowledge as precious as that, was he unable to decide who he saw? Loki's actions were excusable to him, and he had been the one most affected. He wouldn't have protected the God if he didn't think there was good in him.

He had seen it. He had felt the good pulsating through Loki, no matter how much he tried to hide it. There was no doubt in his mind that if they tried hard enough and, on his father's end, given it a little patience, Loki would have made the perfect addition to their unusual family.

"See Uncle Loki!" the demand was met by a sharp glare from Tony, "See Uncle Loki! Please! Please!" one hand stretched out to make his plate fly to the side, the red eyes returning to him so he could match his father's glare. The intent in them was noticeable even though his irises were not, which made the rest of the team jump from the table in an attempt to stop him.

"Peter Stark-Rogers, stop using your powers!" Steve half-shouted whilst he grabbed the tea towel, the mess he'd made when he dropped his burden becoming a coffee-coloured puddle on the floor, "You're not allowed to use them in the Tower!" the child ignored him, extending his hand to make the plates levitate and the glass beside him to collect condensation. Again Steve remembered how powerful he was and allowed a shiver to run up his spine, but it was soon washed away by the memory he was his son, "Peter Stark-Rogers; you will put the plates down right now, or you will spend the rest of the day in your room!"

The command is heard. Every plate drops back to the table, rattling with the breakfast as the child turned to his billionaire and let his eyes fade to green, "See Uncle Loki."

"I've told you no."

"See Uncle Loki…or Peter…"

"Peter what? What will Peter do?" Tony's eyes narrowed when he spoke, like he didn't care for hearing his own son's voice at that moment and wanted nothing more for him to vanish, "You're not going to bully me into changing my mind. Pepper tried that once, and I ended up going with her plan and sacrificed three billion dollars!" the coffee cup he held went to his lips, "So no, I won't let you see Loki again. Especially when you act like such a brat."

A strangled growl fell from Peter's throat before he rose himself from the chair. Steve's words were unheard again as he flew towards the door, leaving behind his wonderfully prepared meal in the face of his father's drinking, each calm sip to show that he wouldn't cave in to Peter's temper tantrums. It was childish; he wanted to see a man who had kidnapped him, enslaved him and made him attack his family, and all because he wanted to believe that Loki was redeemable.

Bruce was the first to speak up in their tense silence, though his words weren't meant to make conversation, "You're being too hard on him, Tony."

"I won't be bullied into changing my mind," the billionaire repeated without looking up.

Steve took his hand to try and comfort him, but even he thought the argument could have been easily avoided. They all knew about Peter's temperamental nature – it wasn't as though he hadn't used his powers before, especially when he felt he wasn't being heard.

"It might be worth looking into the Loki thing," the super soldier said through a mouthful of bacon, "If he's getting so worked up about it, I mean. It could be like a reward's thing. If he's good for a week, he can go to Asgard and see Loki for an hour, or something."

Tony's eyes flared up behind his blur of tiredness, "You're not actually—you know what, I don't have time for this. I'll think about it and give you a hundred and one reasons why we shouldn't let Pete see him, okay? I'll talk to you all later."

With that the billionaire was gone, taking his bacon in two slices of bread before he vanished out of the kitchen. Natasha looked up at her friend soon after with that knowing expression in her eyes, the type she wore when she understood the reactions being had.

"He'll come around to the idea," she promised, "If Pete wants it, Tony will bend over backwards to get it for him. You know that." Bruce made a small noise in confirmation as he continued destroying his breakfast, with Clint remaining as silent as ever.

Steve let a little smile flicker to his face, his blue eyes steady as he gazed at his friends, "Oh, I know he will. I just want to see how many reasons he comes up with."


	39. See the World

Peter knew he could do it. He had done it once before, but that was only for a brief second before he blacked out. Perhaps with his growing control of his powers and the thing within his subconscious, he could extend the link to last a few minutes? There was only one way to be sure.

He sat on his luxurious crimson bed, clutching the sides of his head as though he were in pain. With one deep breath he released it, his eyes that familiar red hue whilst his mind reached out to the universe, the very thing he had travelled through to reach his beloved family. It was a frozen memory; when the young child thought of it, which wasn't very often, he could only recall details such as a voice chattering away to him and the intense boredom that came with travel, though anything specific was just out of reach. It was just on the tip of his tongue, yet not close enough for him to clutch.

"Loki," a whisper echoed through the God's prison, his eyes raising from the gift in front of him just long enough to glance about, "Loki…hear Peter…" his chair flew backwards as the man jumped to his feet, shouting for whatever spectre that haunted him to leave him be, that he was just trying to work through the mess of his life without the ghosts of the pasts coming for him, "Loki…uncle…"

It was then that Loki felt a sharp pain rip through his skull. His scream was loud as he collapsed to his knees, clutching the sides of his head whilst his back arched and his body doubled over in pure, unadulterated agony, his shrieks heard only by the guard who didn't go to check on him, because the Trickster was surely playing a game of sorts.

By the time the pain had fizzled enough for Loki to open his eyes, he found himself floating in the familiar black vastness that was the universe. The planets drifted aimlessly around him as he tried to find something, anything in which he could sit on or steady himself, since he didn't like being so unsure of what he could or couldn't do.

"Uncle!" the second the God looked up, he found himself clutching a cannon-ball like little boy in his arms, who was squealing about some sort of special reunion and seemed to be so excited for their meeting. Without thinking, he hugged back. Without thinking, he let a smile transcend his face.

"What a lovely dream," he said aloud as he continued hugging the boy, his warm body like a pillow the God had once owned, "I am almost fearful to wake." Peter pulled back so he could stare into the green eyes. Loki wanted to suddenly become lost within those irises so similar to his own, the ones that were still innocent and pure and all those things the God no longer was, glimmering so softly with the starry sky above them. In the distance was a fusion of what could only be another galaxy and, for a moment, the green-leathered man likened it to his small nephew in his arms, with the perfect mixture of power and adorableness.

"No dream," he muttered quietly, "Peter here. Peter with Loki! Miss Uncle." He dipped his head down on his uncle's shoulder again, as though nothing had ever gone on between them and their separation had been a tragedy rather than a blessing.

Insufferable tears pricked Loki's eyes when he asked, "Peter, how long continue this?" the power of the child's form was slowly slipping away, every second passing sapping just a bit more energy away from him, away from the uncle that secretly loved him.

"Not long," was his calm reply. The truth was there was immense pain in his skull, the sort that people felt when there was a crushing pressure in it and they couldn't even see past the murky haze of agony, but he couldn't let such a trivial thing get in the way of their speaking.

"Then I have things I must say," it was with great strain that the God pushed him away slightly, just enough so they could look into each other's eyes, "Why have you come here?"

"Miss you."

"And what is your form?"

"Peter."

"Where is Osmostinos?"

That question makes Peter flinch. Easily he slips from his uncle's grasp, floating through space as though he wanted to be carried away and never return. Loki had to remind himself that, right at that moment, they were within Peter's rendition of the universe and not the actual depths of it, which helped in only calming his nerves.

He brought his hands up as though to signal silence, "Peter and Osmos. Together." He brought them together silently, proving that he and Osmostinos were one of the same, that Loki spoke to both his nephew and the ancient being that had been alive before the universe, aware before the concept of time was formed, energy before any of them were even thought of.

"Does Steve and Anthony…"

"Daddies not know!" the boy is quick to reply, "Daddies know Peter power. Must stay. Must stay un-til Peter older."

It was then that Peter's blue trouser leg started to fade from him, and with it went his actual leg. The pain was becoming excruciating. Loki had tried to use the little magic he had left so they could prolong their discussion, but whatever he had was made ten-fold by Peter. At best, they had a few seconds to say their goodbyes.

"Loki must good," he called as his voice gained that faraway echo, "Loki must good so Peter can see. Be back soon."

"Goodbye Peter – sleep well," Loki managed to add before the vision was gone, and he found himself lying on the floor of his prison cell. He glanced about to see himself utterly along; the spectre, his Peter, was gone, with only the faintest hints of a memory for the God to smile at.

And the boy woke up on a counter with his fathers looking down at him, their eyes alight with worry even though they tried to make it disappear. He fainted a lot. They should have been growing used to it.

"You've got to stop using your powers when we aren't around, Pete," Steve said as he picked at his red polo shirt, nervousness in his voice, "You could get really hurt. What were you doing?" his question was light but filled with intent, the sort that his son had come to recognise over their residence.

"Loki," he choked a reply whilst Tony patted his locks down, throbbing head coming into contact with soothing hand, "Loki safe. Loki see Peter."


	40. Acceptance

The next day was a day the billionaire had been looking forward to. Sometime before his advanced physics class with Peter, he paced the floor of his office waiting for a phone call, or for his mobile to finally ring out with that business-appropriated ringtone that he couldn't be bothered to change.

The glass desk soon vibrated with the sound of his mobile. The jumpy, out-of-tune ringtone that was on it grated against Tony's nerves as he grabbed it, pressing it to his ear seconds after he had clicked the 'accept' button and breathed out an excited breath.

"Hello? Mister Smith?" he smiled despite himself, his excitement reaching its peak when the man confirmed his words and asked him how he was, "I'm fine, and how are you?" woe to the tedious formalities that modern society conformed to; Tony didn't want to listen to how he was struggling with the sizable amount of university entrances or the letters of rejection/acceptance, but he nodded and made appropriate noises when he felt it was necessary.

"Anyway, I'm calling to you about your recent letter to our school," finally he got to the part Tony liked best, which was the part that concerned him, "It seems young Peter Stark-Rogers has quite the portfolio."

Tony was quick to reply as he leaned back in his seat, hearing it creak underneath him whilst he tried to focus his thoughts, "Yes, Peter's quite the worker."

"I've gathered that. His research papers are quite fascinating to go through; I understand that he's highly intelligent?"

"Highly intelligent is an understatement," the billionaire answered, "I don't think you've fully grasped some of the things Peter's done, but I won't go into that now. Back to what's important – what do you think?" there was pause on the other end of the phone. Tony took the time to glance about his office and wonder why Steve bothered cleaning it, since the plans and future systems he designed would be scattered all over during their construction. Soon enough he became impatient, "Hello? Still breathing there?"

"Hm? Oh, yes; sorry about that, just reading through Peter's last research paper. This seems surprisingly sophisticated for such a young boy, especially considering he's thought up several ground-breaking theories," a soft creak echoed down the receiver which was growing hot against Tony's ear, and for a moment he wondered if the man was in his university office, "Are you certain that this is entirely Peter's work?"

Ice cold rage pumped through the billionaire's veins. For a split second the arc reactor whirred, as though telling him that he was furious rather than just allowing him to feel it, "What are you saying?"

"It's not uncommon for physicists to write their children's entry pieces, especially when they believe that child is talented in their field. Has the same happened here?"

Tony didn't want to believe what he had just heard. It was as though he'd just been told Peter wasn't capable of physics, that his boyish look meant that he couldn't have been good at it and that his mind wasn't advanced enough to deal with what he wrote.

"The research papers are all Peter. I haven't even given him my input – he writes them when he's bored or during class," the billionaire explained through gritted teeth, knuckles white as he clutched the phone harder, "His theories are entirely his own."

"That seems a little hard to believe, Mister Stark. Though I don't deny that Peter is indeed, very intelligent, I do find it implausible that he would be able to deal with Quantum Mechanics and the Theory of Relativity. He's what, two? Three years old?" a soft chuckle sounded down the phone as Tony's eyes saw red, "It wouldn't be so much of a problem if you weren't such a celebrated genius, Mister Stark."

"So you're discrediting his work just because I'm a genius? That's ridiculous. Scratch that, it's completely stupid," he leaned forward to fiddle with the pen-and-chain in front of him, built in just so that he could look official when he signed his numerous contracts.

There was another pause, followed by a nervous giggle, "We're not discrediting his work. It's just that Peter hasn't been proven to be the original writer and, when we consider his age and the fact that you yourself are famous for your physics and inventions, it seems to be the work of a father who wants their son to follow in their footsteps."

That was the last straw for Tony. Without thinking he rose from his seat, clutching the receiver in his hand as he strode through the hallways and approached the classroom. Ridiculously huge robots lined the area in which Peter worked, some of them unfinished versions of the Ironman suit whereas others were little more than circuit boards, each one with a shiny platinum exterior that Tony thought looked best.

"Pete?" he found the boy fiddling with his most recent invention, "There's a man on the phone here who wants to talk about your theories. Will you talk to him for me?" Peter smiled at him before he liberated the phone, pressing it to his ear with that childish excitement he always had.

Despite the broken English and his inability to control voice volume, Peter was quick to begin explaining what made his theories credible. Each outrageous thought was backed up by undeniable evidence, things that even Masters Degree students would struggle with but the child found ridiculously simple, since it seemed that everything made sense once he had explained it to himself. By the time Peter finally passed the phone back, Mister Smith was spluttering on the other end.

"Well?" Tony said with that smug self-satisfaction, "Still think Peter didn't write them?"

"I'd like to set up an interview between Peter and myself. We can discuss his part-time attendance further there," the man would jump at the chance to have such a young genius in his midst, especially when that genius came from the likes of the Tower and was under the direct control of Tony Stark, the reason many of his physics students had become infatuated with the science. The fact that his papers would change the face of modern physics didn't hurt, either.

"I'm glad that we were able to reach that agreement," he said as he grabbed the nearest pen and paper, forgetting that he hadn't yet built JARVIS into the classroom's mainframe, "So, how about Tuesday at two o'clock? That's when Pete's next free."

Mister Smith chuckled over the phone when he imagined what engagements the child had, which he was certain would be mostly be play-dates and public appearances. Everyone enjoyed the innocent likeness he possessed to Tony Stark, a man whose features were always youthful but lacked that sense of young hopefulness, "That should be fine. I'll just have to push back an appointment for another student."

"Do that. I'll eagerly await our visit, Mister Smith," with that little hint of sarcasm that the man instantly picked up on, Tony ended the call and turned towards his little boy. A smile danced across his features as he patted the familiar dark locks, so soft under his touch yet so vibrant from far away, "You're such a clever kid."

"Daddy…" a hesitant voice muttered whilst Tony went on praising him.

"Yeah son?"

"Fire."

And that's when the billionaire realised his invention had caught fire, and was burning through the wooden casing that he had decided to coat the feature with. He screamed down the hall for someone to turn on the sprinklers before he picked Peter up, nuzzling him softly against his shoulder as they darted out of the room.

"Well, I didn't say you were always right."


	41. Chatting

"There's not much you can't do, is there Tony?" Steve said with a big plateful of chicken in front of him, the milling of the waiters a faint annoyance as they concentrated on one another, "Getting our little boy into Uni and he's only three. That's got to be some sort of record."

"Correction; it is a record. Pete's the youngest person to ever be accepted into university," the billionaire smiled when he brought the wine glass to his lips, remembering Smith's stuttering after his chat with the boy, "He's got a bright future ahead of him."

Steve brushed his finger over his lover's hand, eyes light, lips parted slightly to reveal the white tips of his teeth, "It's all thanks to you."

As much as he appreciated the credit, Tony was quick to correct his lover and put all of the responsibility on their boy, who was the sole researcher of every single one of his pieces. The memory of his hard work was a warm one, something that the billionaire thought about when he was lying on his plane's bed trying to sleep; his boy at home, waiting for him with a fierce determination and a brave smile on his face.

"You're forgetting that you're the one who taught him how to write in English," Steve pointed out after what seemed like an age of Tony talking, his voice so praising that even their waiter was having a hard time with it. When he had come over to ask about the wine or suggest that the violinist play them a particular melody, he was surprised to hear the tycoon chatting so proudly about the son they hadn't brought with them, his eyes loving as he went over the boy's intellect and praised his many methods.

"I think you're forgetting that he learnt from that book," the billionaire turned long enough to ask for another bottle of wine, his smile broad and frightening to the waiter in the black suit, "Two of your most expensive bottles. Don't even care what they are." Steve rolled his eyes. It was typical that his fiancé would buy something ludicrously expensive when there were plenty of cheaper items on the menu, particularly when he couldn't even read the wine selection names.

"The book you bought him."

"And you recommended."

"From the shop you took us to."

"From a memory that you had."

"Because you reminded me about it at breakfast."

"Which you woke me up for after a science binge."

Having nothing more to say and feeling that insufferable blush creep across his cheeks, Steve just toasted Tony before he sipped on the crimson drink. He liked the colour red. It wasn't until he'd watched Peter work that he realised how much he enjoyed the shade, even though he had subconsciously used it in his wartime paintings and occasionally in his recent pictures, working it in to better accentuate Tony's high cheekbones and Peter's cute black locks.

"See? I'm right!" the teasing just worsened the scarlet flush of his lover's cheeks, something that played up to his 'boy next door' demeanour and made him even more suited to Tony's hand. There wasn't another person that the tycoon could stand inexperience for – with Steve, it was like entering a new world with all sorts of possibilities, a world in which he didn't belong but wanted so much to fit into. It was the world his family lived in.

They continued on with dinner, speaking little about Peter and more about their plans for the wedding. It had been a slow process to get Tony to agree on venue, time, season and even the alcohol that would be available there, with each one about how much the billionaire could spend and make his wedding 'the event to remember.' He wanted it bigger than the royal marriage. He wanted cherubs, angels, Asgardians and more, gold streaming from places that didn't exist and money littering the Reethi Rah Resorts' beaches, their faces branded all over the world as the most perfect family to have ever lived. Steve didn't want that. What he wanted was to see Tony happy and, if that meant that he had to make his wedding a public affair, then that was what he would do.

"We'll have to make sure Pete's being watched when it gets late," the leader added casually when Tony got to the entertainment, his eyebrow raised to show he didn't like the idea of 'nudist fire dancers' or 'Hawaiian hula girls.' Wasn't Reethi Rah Resorts in the Maldives? He daren't ask too many questions, since he felt it would only spur his lover on.

"What? He'll be the life of the party!" the billionaire replied as he took another sip of wine, eyes squeezed shut so he could savour the bitter swirl of drink, "People will be taking pictures, laughing, dancing, having fun; we can't have little Pete missing out on that!"

"His bedtime, Tony. You know what he gets like when he's tired."

"So he might use his powers and knock down a few trees; it's nothing I can't pay for."

"But it's a conversation I don't want to have with the manager," Steve couldn't help but smile, with his hand placed at the side of his head and his elbow resting on the table, "Can you imagine it? 'Hey, my son ripped some trees from the ground and dented a few cars. Can we leave a cheque or do you prefer cash?'"

Tony wished he hadn't swallowed the calamari right at that moment, because it ended up fighting the laughter that erupted from his throat, "You know, that's exactly how I imagined it."

"Not a conversation we want to have on our wedding night, is it?"

"I guess not, but we can't let that ruin Pete's fun. He'll get tuckered out during dinner and the speeches; give him a nap before the party starts. He'll be right as rain."

They smiled at each other as he spoke, realising that the little details didn't matter in the grand scheme of their wedding. They loved each other. They were going to stand in front of their friends and family, the business associates that Tony wanted to keep and a handful of acquaintances Steve had met, and declare their love in front of all of them.

Tony felt a thumb brush his own, which made him look down to see his lover's hands just inches away from him, big and marked with his attempts at using a can-opener. Brown eyes met blue in a fusion of peace, romance, whilst every inch of him zapped with the intense feeling of joy.

"Screw it," the billionaire stated before he threw his wallet on the table, complete with all his credit cards and the three hundred dollars he had brought out, "Let's get a room."


	42. Hulk's Bargain

Peter rested peacefully against Bruce's shoulder as the credits rolled, unaware that his fathers had ventured out. The scientist liked the occasional night in with his nephew, with pizza and games and movies that he'd never really paid attention to before, but he could tell when the boy was starting to get tired. He'd have that look in his eye; serenity and haziness mixed into one, like the sluggish ebb of an ocean along the shoreline.

"Time for bed?" he asked though he didn't expect the truth, since Peter relished those moments more than people realised. His young mind may have been innocent but he understood the concept of time, of death, and tried his best to make the most of his family.

"No, Uncle."

Tiredness rang through his voice. The fact he hadn't realised _Titanic _was over said something, as usually he was aware enough to pay attention to such little details. He noticed when Bruce had moved the furniture in his room. He noticed when the bottle of scotch was out of the cabinet and on the bar. He noticed when Joanna visited because she left her coat hanging on the hook, and her bag would be placed neatly on the bedside table. The things she kept in there were irrelevant to him but he took the time to learn; scissors, paper, fake nails, fake eyelashes, lipstick, emergency makeup, her work pass. Nothing too personal.

"What do you say we go to bed anyway?" the researcher suggested as he leaned forward to the remote, placed beside a half-empty pizza box that Bruce thought Thor would later demolish, "It'll be a nice little change, won't it?"

"Not tired!" the boy was adamant, much like his father when Steve told him it was time to stop the science and go to bed. Bruce couldn't help but smile as he recalled the times Tony would stay up all night and Steve, despite insisting his worry was friendship based, would try his best to pull him to bed, offering him food and bribing him with decanters of scotch.

Those times were long ago, but they made him chuckle softly whenever they came to mind.

So they sat for a while, with Peter yawning and insisting that he was old enough to stay up, openly challenging Bruce's authority over him by picking up another slice of pizza. The tiny puppy-bites he made took the tip before he found himself too full, dropped it and turned back to the scientist, grinning madly as though he were an inventor on the cusp of a breakthrough.

"Why the smile?" Banner asked with his own, "Finally tired?" the boy shook his head before pointing to the 'locked cabinet,' somewhere he knew he wasn't allowed to go. Steve had taken his most dangerous toys – notably, the toys Tony bought that were capable of blowing up – and locked them in there some time before, saying 'anything that Tony buys has got to be dangerous in some way. If not, it's illegal."

Peter's overzealous beam grew even wider when he turned back to his uncle, because he knew smiles made him melt, "Please Uncle?" his voice was smooth and silky, the type that a temptress used when trapped her latest victim or a snake's hiss in the garden of Eden, granted both of them were nothing when compared to his nephew. Peter's soft green eyes and heart-warming smile usually got his way and, if they didn't, he'd employ his ultra-cute strategy of biting his bottom lip. That normally did the trick.

"Oh no, not tonight," replied the researcher before he began switching things off, wondering to himself if he should clean up or let Thor find the food, "You're going to get me in trouble if I give you them. I know exactly what you want."

"Pretty please?" he'd seen Tony ask Steve something once yet when he had said no, that it was too dangerous and he was too important to get hurt, the billionaire had given him the whole 'pretty please' routine and gotten his own way. Perhaps there was a trick to it? "Be good for Bruce! Promise!"

"Mmhm, that's what you said last time. Remember what happened?" they both remembered the broken faucet, but neither of them would dare repeat such an adventurous experiment, "No, not tonight. Daddy and Captain Daddy will get back soon, so you best go to bed before they do."

Suddenly Peter's eyes were up, wild, as though he'd just realised that his fathers were out of the Tower. A split second later Bruce was cursing as he raced out of the opened front door, the child he watched sat firmly on the driveway like he normally was when his parents went out.

"Pete, it's too late to be out here! It's cold!" smoky breath billowed out of Peter's nose but he didn't care, didn't even realise whilst he waited for the headlights of his father's car, the laughter of Steve ringing through the air as they pulled into the garage. "You're in your pyjamas!" the blue cotton was sullied by the dirt that sat underneath him but he didn't move, still intent to see his fathers' return.

And with a sigh, Bruce finally reasoned, "If you come inside now, I'll open the cabinet and you can have _one _toy. Just one."

His eyes glimmered when he turned back, reflecting off the moonlight that shone from the sky, "Promise?"

"I promise!"


	43. Home Alone

"We should've called home and said we weren't coming back," Steve's sense of hindsight was impeccable as always, reminding Tony of the wonderful night they had shared and why they should have felt guilty about it. It was true that the slight detail of calling had slipped their minds, that their thoughts were on other things rather than what was happening at home, but the billionaire thought that one unexpected night alone wouldn't damage their precious son. If anything, it would strengthen him.

Imagine their surprise when they arrived at Stark Tower, complete with a dozen fire engines and a menagerie of police cars. Steve's face dropped before he pelted through the potted-plant first floor, ignoring the shouts of various firemen and the odd policeman that wandered through it, imagining some gruesome scene in which Peter would be hurt or one of their friends were dead.

"What's going on?!" his shout was enough to shatter the windows around him when he finally burst into the foyer, surrounded by men he didn't know and badges he didn't want to be seeing, "Where's Peter?!"

"Over here!" a weary voice met his demand with little fear in it. Steve turned, eyes ablaze as he caught sight of a fatigued Bruce, his hands clasped over sleeping Peter whilst he tried to answer the interrogating fireman in front of him.

"What happened?" the super soldier barged through the throngs of uniformed people so he could stand next to his friend, taking hold of the little boy just as Tony entered the foyer. The billionaire's eyes were terrified though he forced that fake smile, the one he wore when he was at Stark Expo.

He shook hands whilst he made his way towards the men, a great deal more subtle than Steve's forceful attitude and his broad-shouldered barrelling, "What's happened? Is Peter hurt?" his eyes were softly glancing over the boy that slept so peacefully, as though he'd be able to deduce the exact reason so many strangers were in his house.

It was then that the blond-haired fireman finally answered them, "Mister Banner called us when a fire broke out in the kitchen. Your son's toy must have had a faulty wire – sparks were flying out of it and set the plant alight, which continued to grow until we'd arrived."

Any sense of bliss Tony had was thoroughly destroyed. He looked back at Steve to search for some type of blame, some sort of reprimanding that the soldier was sure to give him for buying such dangerous toys, but he was surprised to find he was too busy with their sleeping son. Peter didn't seem too hurt. Hopefully, that meant he was alright. But there was only one way to be sure.

"Bruce?" he turned to the weary-eyed scientist that looked like he'd been up all night, which didn't seem unlikely considering the circumstances, "What happened?" out the corner of his eye he caught sight of the kitchen, blackened entirely on the inside and scorch marks stretching from the door.

"Peter was upset when you guys didn't come back, so I let him have a locked toy if he promised to stop crying. Well, he already had a toy, and he was screwing around with their controls when something connected and…well," his hands spread out in an over the top fashion, waving wildly about with the weight of his exhaustion, "Kaboom."

"How upset was he?" Steve's voice was a mere whisper as he cradled the boy to his chest, tenderly stroking the curly locks back when they flicked over his forehead and placing soft kisses on his nose. The fireman didn't even flinch when he saw the famed Captain America acting so fatherly, like it was a normal thing to see a war hero so affectionate.

"Well, he was on the wall at one point…I think…" Bruce yawned, pressing the back of his arm to his mouth to give him some focus, "Then he…I can't remember…the fire's kind of taken it out of me."

"That's understandable," their billionaire companion quickly patted his friend's forearm, comforting despite the fact he was semi-furious, "You're gonna go upstairs and get some rest. Steve, take Pete to his room so we can sort this mess out. You," he pointed to the fireman in front of him, his brown eyes fierce as they met the twinkling green ones, "You come with me and we'll talk about the damage. I'm talking electrical, material; the works. And I trust the press haven't caught wind of this?"

"It's not in our business to tell them, sir."

"Then we've got about five minutes til they show up. Perfect. I think this'll be enough to keep you and your friends quiet," his smile was cocky as he wrote them a cheque, the zeros on it totalling to more than his serviceman had ever seen whilst Bruce disappeared upstairs, "Don't you agree?"

"Er…yeah, that'll probably cover it…" he felt bad taking the money but, what with the state of affairs in government, they couldn't take any chances.

"Wonderful. So, lead the way."


	44. Who Cares?

Steve wasn't happy. Even after the firemen were gone and the policemen had disappeared, mouths stitched up like voodoo dolls with the ink of Tony's cheques, he wasn't pleased with the situation.

"He could've been hurt," the leader pointed out when they were both in Peter's room, fingers brushing thick black locks from the boy's eyes as Stark paced the floor behind him, "That's why I've told you not to buy those toys. They're dangerous."

"Yeah, yeah," Tony had heard it all before, so much so that he was becoming tired of the same old routine, "You're right and I'm wrong, are you happy? The kitchen can be fixed pretty quick and it's going to be flame retardant this time."

There was a heavy sigh from the leader but, if his lover had heard amongst his repair ramblings, he didn't comment on it. The muscular back of Steve heaved whilst he concentrated on his breathing technique, something he had developed so that he'd be able to deal with the billionaire in times of hardship – strangely, it was one of his better used exercises.

Somewhere in his breathing, the super soldier managed to hone into Tony saying, "I mean, if we didn't lock up the robots, he wouldn't be so interested in them. Don't you think this whole situation could've been avoided if we just got rid of the cabinet?" another sigh, met with an unseen roll of the eyes, "It's not even like we need it. Pete's fine with robots. This incident aside, he's great with them."

"But they're not toys for a little boy, Tony," Steve pointed out for what seemed like the millionth time, in an argument that they'd had over and over before, "It's like giving him the Ironman suit when it's not operational; he'll find a way to get it working."

"That's because he's a genius, and geniuses wouldn't screw around with things they know are dangerous!" there was the hypocrisy that Steve didn't like. Tony knew full well that he had abused the suits at one time, using them for party tricks and to attract women when he was still a single bachelor, which proved that the a person's intellect didn't matter. The suits to a little boy wouldn't be dangerous but, rather, they would be a toy, something that they hadn't played on before and were fully entitled to experiment with.

The soldier turned his back on him to tuck their sleeping boy in, kissing the top of his head before he stormed out of the room. He knew Stark would end up following him but that didn't matter – they just needed to take their fight out of the red and black chambers, away from the slumbering Peter as he tried to get over his ordeal.

"Don't you walk away from me!" he shouted down the hallway, softly enough to not disturb their son but loud enough for Steve to hear him.

"Why?"

"Why?! Why?!" the reasons went on endlessly as they made their way to the conference room, the list longer than the chores issued on Sundays and the spare parts Tony needed for his experiments. When the elevator music came on Steve sighed in relief, happy to have something else to focus on whilst his boyfriend continued his tirade.

It was some stupid song Bruce had downloaded on the system, designed to irritate Stark as he'd had the same one stuck in his head for months and only recently got rid of it. He didn't even notice between his shouts, which was a small mercy since it would no doubt send him on another tangent.

"…and it's not my fault that Pete's great with physics, so why the Hell do you keep acting like it's such a taboo topic?!" Fury was on the conference room sofas when the pair walked in, though he didn't bother moving to give them more privacy. By the way Tony was going, he wouldn't even notice the director's presence.

"Tony-"

"You're so set on him staying active and being a great sports star that you're missing the important stuff!"

"Tony, I think-"

"It's a wonder he's not mixing up gamma radiation with homeruns!"

"You're starting to-"

"I will _not _be the one explaining to his university why his assignments are late if you keep-"

"STARK, ROGERS." They both looked up to see Fury reading a newspaper, eyes not even on them as he muttered between sips of scotch, "Will you both just kiss and make up? I'm starting to get this news report mixed up with whatever's going on with you two." He glanced back to see Steve's slightly reddened face and Tony's relaxed shoulders, reactions he expected from the totally different men, "I don't think the Syria crisis started because the politician's son couldn't do physics."

"I'm sorry sir, you're right," it was the leader's turn to apologise as he turned towards Tony, yanking his wrist so that they were on the way to the elevator and he could effectively hide his blush, "We'll continue this discussion somewhere else." Without a complaint Tony stepped into the lift, glancing at the polished metal around them whilst his boyfriend pressed their private floor.

Steve's eyes turned to him with anger glinting in them, "Did you like to embarrass everyone you've had a relationship with?"

"Only the ones I really cared about," he sneered as he shrugged his shoulders, the grey suit on him bunching for just a second before it fell relaxed, "Consider yourself lucky."

"I do, but do you?"

The billionaire snapped his neck back to look sharply at his lover, "What?"

"Look at the evidence Tony; Peter set fire to the kitchen because of the toys you gave him; we've had eight drills in the last year because Pete's accidently set off a deadly weapon; there's been a massive debate in the house about whether or not he should be allowed to screw around with the Ironman suits. You just don't seem to care about him when it comes to your experiments."

"Of course I care about him!" the chocolate brown eyes narrowed, "I care about him way more than my experiments."

"Do you? So you would let him take some time off them so he can play around and actually behave like a normal kid?" the question was met with an expected silence, Tony's eyes flitting from his lover's face to look at the floor below them. Steve couldn't say he was surprised. "Just think about it, okay?" and with that, he placed a gentle peck on the side of Stark's nose, leaving the elevator as the doors slid open and disappearing into their room.


	45. The Great Physicist

Think about it. Yeah, that was easy. Tony was used to thinking about things, what with his theorems and experiments and inventions, but he wasn't used to thinking about something he couldn't just do again. There wasn't a second chance when it came to Steve or Peter – the choices were a gamble and whatever he decided, it could make or break the billionaire's happy little family.

"You alright?" Bruce asked when he strode into the lab, his smile broad after a luxurious nap and the promise of a new set of untested chemicals. He caught sight of Tony's whiskey glass but, ever the timid type, he said nothing, hoping that whatever troubled his friend was one of those fleeting matters.

The tycoon's eyes flickered for a moment, like he was trying to register what Bruce had said through the muddle of his mind. Thoughts of Peter dissipated as he raised his gaze, brought face to face with a piping hot cup of coffee on his worktop and the readings for his latest test subject. He could only stare as though someone had switched him off from the back, which unsettled his companion to the extent that he had to turn around, busying himself with the components for their bacterial investigation.

"It's been a while since we tested the reaction of Vibrio cholera with our new antidote," the words fell on deaf ears as Tony continued to stare, "I was thinking we could try it in a new environment – if that doesn't work, I've ordered some more agents that'll be suitable for merging."

When there was no reply, Bruce weighed up the pros and cons of turning around. He didn't want to get involved in whatever was going on with Tony, just knowing that it would have something to do with the kitchen repairs or something that wasn't technically legal, but he couldn't just let him suffer in silence. Damn his compassionate nature.

"What's up?" he compromised with himself not to turn around, perhaps with a hope that his mind could be half focused on the petri dishes he held whilst Tony rambled about his problems.

"Nothing."

The answer was more surprising than any Bruce had ever heard. Before, when the billionaire found something he was dissatisfied with, he wouldn't be quiet about it. The world would be the first to know; press conferences, articles, magazine entries on the exact product he didn't like and what made it worse than the millions of identical ones around the globe, how his own version would smash everyone's expectations. But nothing? Tony hardly ever kept his thoughts to himself.

Bruce's lip trembled whilst he began to label the dishes, careful not to disrupt the growing bacterium on its freezing, thick jelly, "You sure? You've been quiet for a little while."

"You're always complaining I should shut up more," the billionaire pointed out in a little voice, as if he was sad about something that his companion couldn't remember; "Now you're telling me to talk more. I don't think I'm ever going to get it right." As he spoke Tony leant towards the coffee cup, abandoning his half-empty whiskey glass so he could sober up a little and focus on what he was supposed to be doing. The world wouldn't get its answers if he didn't head the experiments.

"What're you talking about? I wasn't saying you should talk more, just asking what's up."

"Do you even care? There's no point talking about it," he strode forwards to collect up one of the dishes, his eyes sharply searching for any anomalies or oddities that may have inflicted it.

Bruce's hand found its way on Tony's forearm. With a soft smile, his silent words were conveyed to his friend; he cared, no matter what the billionaire said. Whatever he thought and whatever he argued, Banner would be right by his side to defend him, fighting his corner when it seemed that the entire world wanted him to fall.

And Stark could only sigh as he dropped the dish in his hands, "Steve thinks I care more about my experiments than I do about Pete. Is that true?" his eyes looked into Bruce's, pleading, vulnerable, "I'm not that bad a father, am I?" all the scientist could do was pat his shoulder comfortingly, as though he was shocked by the mere thought that his friend was a bad father and Peter wasn't his main priority.

"I don't think you're a bad dad, just a great physicist," he said honestly, "You get a bit wound up in your inventions sometimes. I'm sure it was the same with Pep and your business, am I right?"

There was a pause, and Stark nodded.

"Maybe stepping out the lab will actually do you some good. You've been stuck on those weapon's schematics for weeks. Some time out might give you an epiphany or something."

It was a valid point; Tony had been struggling with a new design for his lasers, which just hadn't been complying with the suit no matter what he did. Perhaps some time with his family would give his brain time to recuperate, make it seem clear in his mind when he finally stepped back in the lab…

"I guess taking a break wouldn't hurt," he concluded after what seemed like an age of mental weighing, "And I'd have to give Pete some time off too. He's been working really hard on those papers." Bruce smiled when he remembered the boy's soft-faced determination, something that he'd often admired during their shoulder-to-shoulder work and the many lone lunches they spent together.

He carefully placed the bacterium on a microscopic slide, "He's a great physicist too. That university is going to snap up his papers and make them the next revolutionary breakthrough, aren't they?"

"I hope not," Stark replied with his hands occupied on the microscope, "The heat'll put us all in the spotlight, and we really don't need that at the moment. I'm still waiting for someone to spill the kitchen story."

An embarrassed blush crawled up Bruce's neck, "Sorry about that." His friend's hand waved almost dismissively of it, as though it had happened years ago rather than the very night before.

"Not a problem. Just going to be a pain in the neck if it comes back up," his eyes were suddenly at the microscope, inspecting the bacterium underneath it before Bruce had properly applied everything and prepared the testing agents. The scientist smiled; that was the Tony he knew, with his quickness and impatience.

"You paid them to keep quiet."

"I pay a lot of people to keep quiet."

"Fair enough," the bacteria were suddenly alive, tinged purple, the wavy forms murky with the added chemical that Bruce had prepared before, "Be careful – this stuff's acidic."


	46. Finger Painting

Peter was busying himself with finger-painting when Tony walked in, face apologetic and hands clasped over a huge lump of clay. It was the first time he'd ever bought an art supply, though it wasn't meant for him.

His lover sat in the corner of the playroom, working hard on his patrol report as he kept one ear locked on the little boy behind him, innocent as he ever was with those oceanic blue eyes fixated on the paper and his lips mashing together whilst his fingers tightened on the pen, like he was angry at the words he wrote. Tony could only stare for a moment, dumbstruck at the simple beauty of the scene; father and son in a room together, their minds on separate things but their hearts with one another every second that passed.

"Ahem," Steve looked up when his lover cleared his throat, "I've got a peace offering, so don't yell at me!" the leader's eyes narrowed as they fell to the hard grey blob in his hands, tempted to yell at him just because he told him not to.

"I wasn't planning on it," he eventually admitted, rising to his feet as their little boy stayed fixed on his finger-paints, "What you got there?"

"Clay. Thought you could use it in your next art project or something."

He thrust it into his boyfriend's hands, quick to note the disappointed look in his eyes before he remembered that Steve didn't like clay. He'd told him many times that it'd made too much of a mess when he used it, though Tony must have either not been listening or had been too wrapped up in his own thoughts at the time. Cold realisation swept over him before he turned to Peter, who was still concentrating on the uneven lines of his painting.

"What're you doing, bucko?" he asked in an effort to get off the awkward situation, allowing Steve to put his burden on the blue desk as he took a seat beside the boy, "It's very good. What're you trying to draw?" it was obvious that the blue mess was supposed to be Steve, what with its wonky white star in a chest of blue slashes and the poorly constructed helmet that he'd tried to recreate, yet Stark couldn't help feeling a stab of pride at it. The idea itself was amazing. And with a little practice (coupled with Steve's help) it could have been made into a true masterpiece.

"Captain Daddy," Peter's grin was something Tony hadn't seen in a while. A pure grin, he meant. Of course they had smiled at each other over breakfast on the few occasions he had been there, and they had passed on the hallway a few times when Peter was off for his bath or when the billionaire had run out of coffee. It just hadn't felt like those smiles meant anything, not something important like he was actually registering what Tony said and putting it into his massive mind bank.

Steve's eyes flitted up from the grey lump on his desk, "What's me?" he moved with such finesse that it was hard to believe he could be a bumbling madman sometimes, such as when the world called for saving or he'd realised he'd left dinner in the oven. With ease the super soldier dodged the blue play table, quick to avoid the hanging turquoise frog-light before he fell beside his family, intent on seeing what Peter had created.

"This," the tycoon handed it to him with a smile on his lips, "It's you, in your uniform. He's painted Captain America." Tony was trying his best to act like the paint on the expensive blue carpet wasn't annoying him, granted he calmed himself with the thought of his maids. They were so good with getting out questionable spills. He should've known, after all…

"This is beautiful Pete," the boy was pulled to his father by one hand on his side, forcing him into Steve's hardened body as he planted a soft kiss to his forehead, "You might be the next Leonardo Da Vinci if you're not careful. We'll put this on the fridge when we go back downstairs – could we put it over the lesson plans?" he gave a hopeful look to Tony, a knowing expression that wasn't lost on his son as he turned to face the billionaire. Green eyes met brown whilst blue continued to burn, waiting for an answer in the insufferable silence around them.

Then Tony smiled, "Sure, that'll be fine. You won't be having your lessons for a few weeks anyway, Pete; we're taking some time off."

The child's eyes widened. He looked first at his father and then at the other, his thoughts on what they could possibly mean by those words. Did they not think he was following his classes properly? Had he done something to upset them? The idea of not waking up and seeing the chart every day was terrifying, especially when he didn't know the reason for their sudden change of heart.

But Tony was quick to see the change in his son's eyes, "It's not forever Pete, just a temporary thing. We'll be having a bit of a break from them until Captain Daddy lets us back in the lab, isn't that right?" the expectant smile was tossed towards Steve, who handled it with surprising grace and dexterity.

"You'll be having lessons when I think you actually need to get on with some work," his words explained a calmer, less sinister nature of the imposing rule, as though he'd expected Tony to make him the bad guy of the situation, "Until then, you're going to go outside and play sports with your dads. Both of your dads." He added with his gaze locked onto Tony, making him want to shudder as he imagined those eyes burning with fire and brimstone.

"Yay!" his hands shot up to interrupt their staring, "Football!"


	47. Warm Milk

They say physics is a built in instinct for some people, and their sense of self-worth rests on what they can do with it. Peter was one of those people. A few days after his fathers had imposed their ban on classes, the boy was starting to go stir crazy from boredom; he tried to do his research papers when they weren't looking but, as with everything deemed rule-breaking, Steve was strict if he found him.

"He was doing something with antimony earlier," the super soldier explained to his lover as they cleared away Peter's toys, their sighs at the mess more like joyful whispers, "I had to put it in the cabinet because he wouldn't stop."

"He's a scientist at heart, I'm so proud," Tony beamed despite himself, knowing it would wind his fiancé up, that his ingenious plot for their son's lesson holiday wasn't quite going as planned. They should have known – the boy was meant for physics, not for the normal things that most children did.

"Well, looks like you were right. What's the score?"

"I'm not sure; I think I lost count after the whole 'does he like bubbles' incident."

"I won that one."

"Only because you said yes and I had to go with no!"

"Should've been quicker," an insufferably cute smile spread across the super soldier's lips, the sort that made Tony want to kiss and slap him at the same time. Only Steve had discovered his lover's slowness on Friday nights, when he was usually squirrelled away in his laboratories or had found himself some sort of illegal system he could hack, and he used that knowledge to his advantage.

But Tony couldn't deny it was nice to have someone he trusted around him. If it weren't for Steve or, to an extent, Peter, he would have rolled off the deep end long ago and been put in an insane asylum, if not worse. Without thinking he dropped the teddy in his hands, bringing himself closer to kiss his beloved's lips, allowing the world around them to melt and the memory of the mess to dissipate. It was always like that when he kissed Steve – the peace overwhelming, the anger gone.

Their days were filled with such haste. If it weren't the world in trouble it was Bruce going Hulk, Fury calling them in for a team briefing or general bad luck, forcing the pair to stay on opposite ends of the Tower when all they wanted was to be together. One of those lives, they supposed. That was why they relished in the moments they got, and the dark nights that they managed to make for themselves in the master bedroom; that being when Peter wasn't with them, of course.

"We're going to have another meeting tonight," Rogers muttered as they softly parted, his eyes half-lidded through the tranquillity of that moment, "I'm guessing it's on Pete's apparent infatuation with his new leather coat. If not that, something actually important." Tony managed to muster a smile; Fury had taken to commenting throughout the day how good their little boy looked in his gift, how it made him look like a real hard-arse Avenger that didn't take any crap from anyone, but in reality they knew he was just proud. Who wouldn't be?

"Oh great – and me without my earplugs."

"You're going to have to start listening during team briefings, Tony. When was the last time you actually paid attention?"

"How long ago was the one with poisonous snakes?" the billionaire's fingers began counting down the months, as though he'd never listened closely to a meeting and needed to remember how often they came about, "About…seven? No, eight months ago. Hey, don't look at me like that!" Steve's scowl didn't shift, "You try concentrating when you've got inventions to invent."

A large pillow was instantly thrown at the tycoon, who dodged it with relative ease considering his recent shoulder problems, "I do listen, and I've got baseball to follow."

"Aw, what a patriot," Tony said with his tongue sticking out, a reaction that Steve had more or less come to expect from his beloved genius. After almost two years of being together, it was becoming far too common for Stark to revert back to child-like mode, where he would act like a toddler who hadn't had a nap time.

They continued to clean after that, occasionally throwing things at each other when they thought they could get away with it, quick to blame it on people that weren't even present and waiting for their next opportunity to attack with ease. It soon became a game that they were playing themselves, though it didn't help them get the cleaning done. By the time Peter walked in with his warm glass of milk clutched in one hand, his other in the thick fingers of Fury, the two men were busy having a full-out fortress-built war.

The director raised his eyebrow as they suddenly tumbled from the pillow strongholds, trying their best to retain some image of normality whilst they straightened out their clothes. Peter could only smile before he sipped on his milk. Who said that he was the only child around the Tower?

"Nice to see you two are playing nicely," Nick commented, "Makes a change from recently."

"Sir, it's not what it looks like!" that was all Steve could say, because there wasn't any will in his heart to tell lies. He wanted to say how they had tried to recreate a famous battle scene from history using their son's toys, how they were attempting a new type of strategy that hadn't been invented and the equipment they used wasn't crucial, though he knew Fury would never believe it. Lies were lies. They couldn't be told on a whim, no matter what modern society said about it.

Fury's eye twinkled with amusement as he lifted young Peter up, careful not to spill his warm milk, "Right, and pigs can fly. Well, I'm going to take little director Pete here down to the lounge," Steve suddenly realised that his son was in a brand new set of pyjamas they hadn't bought, which were simply red footsy things that took on the form of a strange ladybird, "we're going to watch a movie. You two wanna join or are you busy?" that smirk on his face was enough to tell Steve he knew exactly what they would be doing, and he couldn't feel any more like a child if he tried.

"No, we'll come downstairs," he said before Tony packed the last pillow away, "What about the briefing?"

"Skip it," Fury's reply was made halfway down the hall where he was walking, little Peter still smiling at them as he sipped his glass of milk.


	48. Godly Alien

When Fury had said to skip the briefing, Steve didn't quite clock that he was skipping it too. He was shocked to see the director lying on the sofa with their son, watching an old cartoon about some sort of rabbit as Peter curled up against his chest, sipping at his drink every now and again with a warm smile on his face. The soldier took up the space on the other sofa, his arm around his boyfriend's shoulders whilst they tried to focus on the cartoon.

"What film were you going to put on?" Tony asked as Bugs hopped past another hunting attempt, earning a small chortle from Peter whilst his eyes stayed glued to the television, "I was thinking Alien."

"Tony! That's too adult for Pete to watch," his lover exclaimed beside him, so shocked that it sounded as though Stark wanted to put him in the iron-suit and let him go patrol by himself. The thought of those horrible things on screen, ripping off people's flesh right in front their little boy…it sent shudders down his spine.

"Calm down; it's not like he hasn't seen it before."

"He's right – we watched it when you had a mission in Turkey," Fury admitted without looking at them, his eyes still locked on the ancient animation, "Pete started laughing and crawling around the ceiling. Got into the air vents. It wasn't pretty."

"We thought it'd be best not to tell you," it was a small confession from Tony, who had vowed to himself that he'd start informing Steve of everything that happened while he was away. It wasn't that he didn't want him to know, it was just that the billionaire was getting tired of being called irresponsible.

There was a sharp look of disproval from Steve before he turned to his son, who was still wearing his ladybird pyjamas and sipping on his warm milk. The sight of him made the leader feel warm inside. That was his son – that little boy, wrapped up in red and black on the chest of a secret agency's director, was his and Tony's child, and would keep being that until the day they died. There was so much he wanted to say.

But he settled for, "What do you wanna watch, soldier? Cartoons or Alien?" He was met by the beautiful green eyes of Peter before the child pointed at his wish, sitting on the coffee table in front of them.

Alien. Perfect.

"If he has nightmares tonight Tony, you're staying up with him."

"Ah that's fine," he replied as he brought a glass of wine to his lips, Steve's own on the small sofa-tables that Stark had recently purchased, "We'll have an Alien marathon. It'll be just the thing to get him back to sleep."

Peter could only giggle against Fury's chest as the warmth of his drink spread inside his stomach, as though he were still sipping on it and it had only just hit him. Those nights were just perfect, what with the usually busy uncle making time for him and his fathers sitting on the other side, not to mention the fact that he'd just heard Thor bellow from the foyer.

"I return from my travels, friends!" he called in that familiar God-like voice, "I bring news!"

"Can the news wait until after our film?" Tony asked without taking his eyes off the screen. He didn't even look up when Thor bounded inside the dark room, highlighted only by the fluorescent blue television screen as it came up with the Alien menu.

"It is news about Loki."

"Then it can definitely wait til after the film," he hated the way Peter's head shot up, his eyes hopeful when he heard the name of his villainous uncle, "Sit down." Without another word he pulled the God to sit beside him, handling the remote as Steve took his own seat and cuddling into his lover's side. They didn't need to think about Loki. They just needed to watch the movie and pretend they weren't the only things stopping annihilation.

Thor wasn't pleased with the predicament, but he didn't argue. He understood that such subjects were tender in front of Peter and that the billionaire simply couldn't talk about it with him, especially considering their recent encounter. They just needed to make sure it wasn't brushed under the carpet.

The film dragged on for a long time, partly because Tony had made sure they were watching the extended edition. Peter didn't even flinch as people were torn to shreds, didn't care as the aliens festered on screen like hairy demons, though Steve had to shield his eyes through some of it and find solace within Tony's hair. How could anyone have thought up something as gruesome as that? And the amount of women on television wearing nothing those days – he saw it as barbaric, shameless.

How modern times had changed since he last looked at them.

"Alright Pete, it's time that you were in bed," the super soldier declared as soon as the credits rolled, his face tinged slightly green by what he had just witnessed, "Fury, you wouldn't mind taking him up, would you? I think we three need to go have a chat."

The director looked as though he might have said default no, though he thought against it as he picked his nephew up and made his way to the door. With one glance of his eye-patch he acknowledged Thor, smiled weakly through the tiredness around his eye, before he was gone with the squirming child in hand.

"We'll be up to kiss you goodnight later!" Tony called after him, "And don't read him the Gruffalo, gramps! He gets scared!" it struck Steve as odd that their child would find that scary, but not extra-terrestrial monsters coming to devour their people. Still, it was Peter they were talking about. He wasn't exactly a 'normal' American boy, at least not by some standards.

"Now," he turned to face the blonde haired God next to them, his hand on Tony's whilst they looked him in the eyes, "What's this about Loki?"


	49. Conflict

Thor spent hours explaining the situation, and even longer telling them what Loki wanted. It seemed as though the God was becoming restless after his recent meeting with Peter, saying things that made the Asgardians believe their young alien was in danger or, at the very least, had a special connection to the mischievous man.

"It is not a position I would wish for young Peter to find himself in," Thor said whilst his friend just stared at him, dumbfounded, "Loki's words speak of a future that none of us want a part of – tales of death, mayhem and carnage at the hands of your spaceman."

"He's lying! He's the Liesmith for God's sake!" Tony's exclamation was right in his lover's ear, who suddenly clasped at it and doubled over as though he'd been punched. The billionaire didn't even flinch at his movement, jumping up to stare the long-haired Avenger in the eyes, his own burning with the fierce intensity of his defiance.

But Thor was surprisingly calm when he replied, "Perhaps, though it would be unwise to push aside his claims. He tells me 'Peter's soul is locked with a God.' You Midgardians once referred to as such things?"

"What's that got to do with any of this? He's just trying to make Pete seem like him. He's trying to get us to let our guard down and let him kidnap our son again!"

"Tony, calm down," he felt a warm hand brush against him, strong and large as it had always been as well as comforting, but it didn't stop him from bristling at the words, "Thor, when will you next be going to Asgard?"

"Soon; I have much business there I have yet to attend to," the God replied with a sort of sad smile on his face, that weary sort that came to a man who didn't want to do something. With ease he rose his leg up, bent kneed so he could rest his elbow on it and prop up his head, his eyes light whilst he looked at the men in front of him.

"What's the short version of what Loki wants?"

"Contact with young Peter – regular, but sporadic if necessary."

"Jesus Christ," Tony leant back in his seat as he heard the words, rubbing his eyes with his fingers as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing. In some ways it was a bit ludicrous, granted there had been plenty more outrageous requests and demands from their enemies over the years.

Steve didn't allow him to start another argument, "And what would this contact consist of? Talking, magic, play-dates?" he felt ridiculous asking such things, irresponsible for even considering the idea that Peter could be in prolonged presence of Loki. The God had tried to kill them! What was he thinking? If they were supposed to do something reckless and crazy, they weren't supposed to include their little boy!

A frown danced across Thor's face. Without a word he dove into his Asgardian trouser pocket, looking for something that he seemed to have put to the back of his mind. Perhaps he didn't want Peter to go either? Maybe he wrote down every reason why the boy had to stay on Earth and not his home world, where his name was somewhat of a hot topic for proof of his Avenger's status.

It reminded Steve of the time he had gone to school – long ago in the forties, not that he liked it – and had asked his teacher for a spare pencil. The moustached man wore similar trousers to his friend, though they were a great deal higher to reveal his ridiculously striped socks, multi-coloured if Steve remembered right. The thought made him smile, as did every memory he had of his precious past life.

"Ah!" success; Thor had pulled out a small piece of paper, crinkled in his hands as though it had been on a long journey, "Perhaps this shall shed some light on Loki's requests." Reading through what he had scrawled, he was surprised to see the desires that he had only half-listened to, the things that his brother wanted in return for ending his unsettling premonitions.

Tony was growing impatient, "What is it, then?" his demand was met by a furrowed brow, a side glance to Steve and then a return to the paper, where Thor again lost himself, "Hey, tell me what this guy wants! It's my son on the line here!" the clenched fists meant business – Tony had barely contained himself as he sat on his laboratory stool, the one which didn't swing because he just knew he would have broken it, quite possibly in a rage about some stupid thing Loki wanted.

"Thor," he looked up to Steve's soft voice, "Please."

"The requests are; contact with Peter, preferably regular, full immunity for what he has done so that he may be nearer to the spaceman and, in addition, a complete set of rules that mean he cannot be persecuted for using his magical abilities."

Silence descended over the men. Steve looked at first his friend, then his lover, wondering if the words were actually uttered or he was just having a bad dream, truly lying in the duvet of his bed with his beloved Tony threading his fingers through his hair. It just had to be a dream.

But there was that hardened stare of the billionaire, that set jaw and his clenched fist on the table, cleared away of all the science equipment that Bruce had been working with earlier that morning. He knew then that it wasn't a dream. It was just a nightmare.

"Full immunity?! Full immunity for trying to take over the world, killing hundreds and kidnapping our son?!"

"It is strange that he would request such a thing. The magical abilities I can understand, but he has never tried to claim innocence."

"That's not what this is about – he knows he's done wrong, he just wants to have contact with Pete," Steve looked up with his steely blue gaze, "And by the sound of it, he wants to come to Earth for it."

Thor's eyes were wide with realisation. It was true that Loki had spoken about leaving Asgard when his thousand year sentence was up, but he had never hinted that he would travel to Earth. He called the planet disgusting on more than one occasion. He would ridicule his brother for falling for a Midgardian, even though he commented that her beauty and intelligence made up for it somewhat. The thought of his wanting to be on Earth confused him, mixed his head up and made him want to throw something against a wall, but the only thing that would make a loud enough noise was Mjolnir. And Tony had warned him against throwing that in the Tower.

There was a quiet period in which Tony started thinking to himself, calculating how much trouble he would get into if he agreed and then vaporised Loki on the spot. Not that he was bloodthirsty, but he wasn't the type to forgive and forget. Thor probably wouldn't be happy with him for a while. New York would be. Perhaps Fury would be too, but certainly not Steve. And, when he thought about it, Steve's opinion was all he gave a damn about.

"What do we say then?" the billionaire was pulled from his thoughts by Rogers, those oceanic blue eyes on him as he looked up. The corners of his mouth curled up in a snarl.

"What do we say? How about _no,_" his hand clasped on the side of the white worktop with the force of his fury, "How about we actually think about Pete's safety? Loki? Seriously? You want to give Prince Psychopath immunity so he can have contact with our son?!"

Thor had been silent for some time, watching the events unfold in front of him and judging the situation as it passed, though soon he found himself bristling at Tony's words, "Loki has attempted to lead a pure life since his misdeeds, Anthony. There has been very little trouble from him in way of pranks and spells."

"Aren't his spells repressed now?"

"They are, but his magic still exists within him. If he really desired to he could break through it, though the effort would cause him to have a weakened attack."

"So, what you're saying is, the problem with Loki isn't really dealt with? He's just not using his powers because he doesn't feel like it?!"

"Do not put it in such terms, my friend!"

"Really? Because from what I'm hearing, your whole little situation up there can go very wrong very fast, and we'll be the ones having to deal with it!" Tony leaned back on the stool again, his teeth gritted as he hissed, "You Asgardians need to deal with your shit!"

"Loki is very well contained! He has not used his powers either, despite his knowledge that he is entirely capable with more effort! Does that not prove that he wants peace?!"

"It proves that he's just one shot away from-"

"Enough!" they turned when Steve slammed his fist on the table, furious that two grown men were bickering over something so pointless. The noise echoed around the laboratory and down the hall, where Bruce was helping Clint make his arrows and Natasha was listening to her romance audiobooks. It was enough to make them look up, but not enough to make them investigate.

"Probably just the lover boy's having a tiff," Clint mused as he grappled with the new designs, "You know what they're like."

But the truth was far from their assumptions. Thor stared darkly at the man he had just been bickering with, wondering if an attack would be deflected by Steve, though he secretly knew he wouldn't do it no matter what the answer was.

The silence was gripping before Tony let out a shaky breath, rubbing his temples in a fashion similar to Pepper, "Steve, you're not really asking me what I think about this, are you? Because if you are, I think we seriously need to talk about our communication skills."

"Loki hasn't done anything for a while, which is even more promising considering what we've just heard," he gave a meaningful look to Thor that told him he'd be spoken to about that, granted then was not the time nor the place, "Maybe contact with Pete could be just what he needs to turn his life around? Supervised contact, no magic, and we're not allowing him to take Pete out for anything. Not until we're certain we can trust him."

"_Prince of Deception!"_

"You were a raging alcoholic when I met you – are you saying we shouldn't trust Loki because of his past? If he's making the effort, we have to try and meet him halfway."

Stiffening with fury, Tony had no choice but to steady himself on the countertop in front of him. The tense moment of consultation with himself was closely monitored by Thor, who had carded his fingers through his hair throughout it and wanted the answer to his questions.

Finally, he said, "I can't believe I'm agreeing to this, but it feels like I'll be 'chatted' to until I do. Fine – he can have immunity and contact with Pete, but we need a constitution or something about what these 'rules' are gonna be. I'm not giving Loki a free pass to play his pranks down here, understand me?" his eyes narrowed at the straw-haired God in front of him, his features set like iron and his patience wearing thin as he looked at the shorter man.

"That is all I ask," he responded after glancing at Steve, relieved to see a small nod from the leader, "I shall go back to him with the news immediately. What, if I may ask, shall we do about his accommodations?"

Steve wasn't expecting that question. He wasn't quite thinking about rooms and housing when it came to their situation, especially since he couldn't think of an answer that would please both parties. The shaky sigh that fell from his mouth was enough to make Tony look up sharply, brow furrowing as though he could read his mind.

"No!" he exclaimed, "No, no, no. Don't even _think _about suggesting it!" Thor could only look in confusion as Stark suddenly jumped up, his back turned towards them as he headed towards his lab door, "I won't hear it, not now. Where's Pete? In bed? I'm going to go read him a story." And before the super soldier could utter a complaint, his boyfriend was gone. With a sigh he turned to Thor, drumming his fingers against the countertop whilst he offered him a weak smile.

"He'll be alright when Loki eventually gets here, trust me," he said quietly, his voice steady so as not to inform the God of his slight discomfort. It didn't work.

"I assure you that Loki's actions have changed – he no longer desires to harm Earth, only possess the spaceman's attentions. I am willing to swear my life on my brother's redemption," his eyes were pleading when he suddenly looked Steve in his, that sort of gaze that meant he wanted his words taken with the utmost of importance, "He has a long road ahead of him, but these few steps…"

The super soldier smiled, "We'll try our best to accommodate him, Thor, but I won't put Pete in danger. If I think that he's doing anything strange or acting suspiciously, his rights to him will be revoked and we'll have to take action. Are we clear?" the God nodded, granting Steve the permission to rub his eyes and shake the sleep away from them, "Good. Well, you can go and make the arrangements to bring Loki down here. We'll…we'll make a room up for him once Tony's come round. Contact us when you're ready to bring him down."

Thor nodded as he got up to leave, his pause only to call over his shoulder, "Thank you for this, Steve. I will make sure that we do not disappoint you."


	50. Peter in the Cage

Peter noticed a subtle change in his father's mood. As the billionaire trawled through a story he didn't particularly like, snorting with laughter when he came across another stupid statement or physically impossible happening, but his mannerism was different. His laughter wasn't as proclaimed as it normally was. His eyes were dulled with something – knowledge perhaps, as Peter knew that was usually on his father's mind.

"Daddy?" he asked after they came to the end of their story and Tony stayed staring at the page, his eyes distant whilst his brain worked over his argument. Peter's hand grasped his as he looked at the bearded billionaire, the impossibly deep brown eyes, with that sense of boyish joy that made them both smile.

"Pete…" his words were tactful whilst their fingers entwined, his smile weak and false, "I've just had a chat with Uncle Thor."

"Thor!" that was a wrong move; Peter was always so excitable when Thor was mentioned, for reasons that Tony didn't quite understand but hadn't exactly questioned. It just made the God an excellent babysitter when they needed one and he wasn't off in Asgard, dealing with the barbaric masses of his 'warrior' populace.

Before the child had a chance to jump up, Stark placed his hands on his shoulders and slightly pushed him against the pillow, as though steadying himself after a gunshot wound, "Yeah, Uncle Thor. We were talking about you and…and Uncle Loki." Another bout of eye widening came from his young son, his squeals barely contained and his shoulders practically vibrating with the excitement of his words, "He's been asking if he can come down and see you."

Again the boy squealed, but that time with a renewed strength. With ease he wriggled out of his father's grip, leaping towards the end of his bed as though he were a frog gliding between lily-pads, his tiny hands clasped together and his tooth-pick like legs bouncing in glee. Tony sighed; there must have been something he could invent to keep his boy in one place, especially when he was trying to tell him important information.

"Calm down bucko – back to bed, please." He was stern in his words though not stern enough, because Peter just smiled insanely at him before sitting at the end of his bed. That smile always made Tony laugh. And that was something he really didn't want to do.

There was a silence as the billionaire tried to collect his thoughts, working out how he could make the information sound both vital and coherent through the jumble of his mind. Peter leaned forward when the quiet droned on, as though prompting him to hurry or he stood to lose the child's interest.

"Uncle Loki is extremely dangerous Pete, do you remember?" the boy nodded though Tony wasn't sure he understood, even recalled the events that led to his kidnapping, "He's not the sort of person you can go and see on a whim. He's…he's Thor's brother, but he's very unpredictable."

"Daddy love Thor?"

The billionaire looked down at the questioning eyes of his son, the beautiful dark emeralds that could break hearts with a glance. His soft digits traipsed lazily over Tony's calloused hands, like a cushioned cat paw treading on churned snow.

"I love Thor like he was my brother," he answered truthfully as they gazed into each other's eyes, "Why?"

"Daddy try help Thor. Uncle Loki sad in cage. Peter in cage. Pod. Pod." The memory of his dark prison caused shivers to run up his spine, a cold feeling that chilled his very core when he remembered the coffin.

"You don't want Loki to be in prison anymore?" Tony asked and was answered by a firm head shake, the force of which almost sent Peter careering off the bed, "Careful! You'll hurt yourself." A steadying hand gripped the child's back, with Tony's body stretched as far as he could whilst keeping balance on his knees, a strange position that left his back feeling strained.

"Loki sad in cage. Peter sad too, and Daddy save!"

"That was different Pete – you're a little kid and didn't deserve what was happening to you. Loki…Loki did something horrible. He needs to be punished for what he's done."

But Peter was adamant. He knew the lengthy sentence that Loki had received, revealed to him when Steve had left the laptop running and he'd had sense enough to find a search engine and type it in. A thousand years? That was longer than he had been alive, and far longer than the average human life expectancy.

"Peter want Loki. Peter want help him."

Tony sighed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes as he leant back on the bed, "You're sure about that, Pete? Because I don't know what Loki wants to talk about, and I'll be damned if he starts manipulating things again."

There was a nod of certainty from the boy before he turned, his back against the billionaire's chest as he shifted into a more comfortable position. The warmth of his little body instantly shot through Tony's arc reactor and spread all the way through his chest, which caused a playful smile to dance across his face.

His fingers found his little boy's side, where he knew of a concealed little spot that made Peter squeal with laughter. Kicking back and trying to wriggle free, the child found himself suddenly pinned by the enormous arm of his billionaire father, the bearded mouth kissing his forehead as he continued the merciless tickle-torture.

"I love you bucko," he purred after a few minutes of his attack, finally slowing the onslaught to mere jabs at his side, "You really make the family."

That was when a shadow was cast from the slight ajar doorway, where the only light was flooding in as Tony had neglected to turn the fixtures off. Steve's chiselled face was highlighted by that angelic glow, like a messenger in the darkness, before he stepped inside and took his place on the edge of the bed.

"I didn't think he'd still be awake," he admitted quietly, telling Tony all that he needed to know. The billionaire managed a scowl through the blackness around him but didn't cause an argument, his thoughts on the pointlessness of it as he gripped their son tightly.

"He wasn't – I woke him up."

"Ah," a flicker of disproval in the oceanic eyes, "Well, that's alright as long as our little soldier doesn't mind, isn't it?" the disproval disappeared when he rubbed Peter's face with the back of his hands, instead transforming into a soft sort of love, "Thor's gone to Asgard again."

A disappointed whimper fell from their son's lips, but not loud enough for them to take notice of it. The God would return with his brother in tow, determined to integrate him into a society he had wished to destroy, intent on changing the purpose of Loki's life.

"Oh joy, so we'll just sit around and wait for Prince Psychopath," the words were met with two narrowed glares, "Hey, don't give me that look. You both know he could flip at any time. I'm letting him back down here, but I've got my eye on him."

"That makes two of us, then," the super soldier replied.


	51. Babydoll

Tony had noticed a subtle change in his fiancé's mood. There was an increase of pet names recently, such as 'babydoll' and 'puppy,' in addition to a small amount of gestures that hadn't been made before. Steve was starting to leave homemade breakfasts on his worktops instead of forcing him to go downstairs, beginning to wear things that Tony liked and cleaning up when the billionaire made a mess, which was telling him something was wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.

One particularly stormy night, Stark was settling in his laboratory for another of his therapeutic sessions. There were parts scattered in front of him that he needed to get to work on, the different gears and mechanisms of his latest invention yet to be assembled and, with a quick application of his glasses, he let out a shaky breath of enthusiasm. He could forget about the strange situation with Steve. All that mattered in that room were him, his tools and his thoughts.

The spanner came out and carefully he began to sort through things, forming a decent set of schematics in his mind that he would later disregard. Gears could be placed in the most awkward of positions to make them work, with the addition of oil to make sure they were well lubricated and would actually grind together, whereas the outer shell of his creation would have to be sleek. He wouldn't be seen making anything less than stylish.

Some two hours into his thinking, the large iron doors behind him silently slid open. So quiet was the noise that Tony didn't hear it, lost in the world of hammers and wires and fiddly little bolts, which worked out well for his intruder. He was able to sneak behind the billionaire with relative ease, careful not to knock over the standing displays of previously built suits or the conical flasks lined on the shelves, stepping over the abandoned documents that Tony had hastily thrown on the floor.

"Damn it!" a shout exploded from the billionaire, his spanner flying across the room as the circuit board in front of him erupted in a fountain of white sparks. The intruder quickly grasped him and pulled him back, well aware of the potential fire hazard after his laptop had done the same thing. Ah, how he had loved those curtains…

"Who the Hell are you?" another shout, that time directed at his captor, "JARVIS, security breach!" when the AI didn't respond and the intruder started laughing, Tony found himself instinctively elbowing him in the stomach. His elbow throbbed as it came into contact with a solid brick wall, or at least what felt like it.

The chuckles began to spill over a familiar pair of lips, the iron grip loosening so that Stark could turn round and be confronted with ocean blue eyes. The smirk on Steve's face was just the thing his lover didn't want to see – the lab was a place for work and relaxing schematics, not to be giggled at by a virtual trespasser.

"What're you doing here? I thought you were at the gym." His voice was tight with frustration whilst he went back to his circuit board, careful not to jar any of the active wires.

"Came back because I missed you," ah, the most cliché of answers, "Didn't you miss me, babydoll?"

"Not particularly. Was actually kind of glad you were gone," the mirth in his voice was enough to tell Steve he was joking, though it didn't stop the soldier from wrapping his arms around his waist and lifting him away from his work. The shrieks of protest were met with more giggles which made them louder, accompanied by flailing feet as the billionaire tried to free himself.

Soon enough it descended into tickling, and that descended into play-fighting, and that descended into kissing against the worktop with fingers laced in golden and dark hair, which was when Bruce decided it would be a good time to walk into the lab. He had expected to find Tony deeply engrossed in his work and unresponsive to anything else, so reality gave him a strange shock. His coffee cup fell, smashing on the floor as he scrambled for words to say, his face going pink whilst his two friends broke their kiss.

"Sorry, I just came in to check my specimens – it's been a few hours, I thought – well, I thought that they'd – sorry, I didn't meant to interrupt, damn, is it getting hot in here?" he began fluffing his shirt out with one hand, his breath shaky as he tried to pull his thoughts together.

Tony, ever amused by the innocence of Bruce, decided to finally put him out of his misery, "It's fine, Brucey. Steve here just jumped me, that's all. I'd have been halfway done if it weren't for him." He shot him a half-annoyed, half-relieved face as he looked at his beautiful lover, remembering all the good times they had shared together and all the wonderful memories they had yet to make.

"Well, I'm just going to check on the specimens and you guys can, erm, well, finish up?" the shade of pink reddened whilst he made his way to the microscope, thankful that he could bury his gaze in it and avoid the amused looks his friends passed. Steve leaned down to give Tony another peck, softer that time, meant as a sort of goodnight so he could go and get some work done.

"I'll see you later babydoll," he whispered into his ear with a voice smoother than honey, sending shivers up Tony's relaxed spine.

"Oh yeah, when did you start using the pet names? Babydoll?" another bemused smile stretched across his mouth, "Like we needed any more hints you're from the forties."

Steve's face was suddenly plagued by his own blush, the sort that came whenever he was asked an awkward question and always made Tony's heart flutter, "For agreeing to at least try this Loki thing. No one gives you enough credit for what you do and I just thought, well, the names would be nice."

"Well, they are," he pecked the side of Steve's head again, "Have a nice sleep."

And when he was certain Bruce was deep in thought, he leaned in to whisper, "Babydoll."


	52. The Terms

Loki drummed his fingers on the table underneath him, the sharp steel of his handcuffs biting into his wrists as he tried to keep his mind off it. There were nothing but strange patterns carved into the walls, small little circles that were invisible to the untrained eye though the obsidian haired God saw them clearly, as though they were his own mother's face. Whoever that was…

"Brother!" he jumped at the sound of his golden crested brother, his hair the same colour as his future crown and his smile the stuff of legends. There was a distinct lack of sadness in his movements so Loki became excited, granted he kept it hidden behind his mask of indifference.

"Thor," he greeted calmly as the God took his seat, "You look well."

"They treat me kindly on Midgard. I am certain they shall do the same to you." A smile appeared on Loki's face, bursting forth from the paleness of his features to transform him into a giddy fool, the kind that he despised but couldn't help turning into.

"They have granted my immunity?"

"To a degree, brother," there was a white piece of paper in front of them that Thor had taken the liberty of scribbling on, careful to involve the details of his discussion and the terms that Steve had thought up, "We are currently debating your living arrangements, should you be granted full rights on Midgard."

A curling snarl appeared where there had once been a smile, "They should have me locked up in a cage if they are given the option! Do you not have foresight, Thor?!"

"Young Peter will be informed of your arrival and the first meeting arranged when our friends have found the time," the God went on to explain, ignoring his brother's outburst and discarding it for a better topic. It worked; Loki's smile returned when he heard about the child, the little boy he had met and connected with in a manner other than matched strength. "Tony is not keen on your unsupervised access."

"No matter," with great struggle the man flicked his hand, unsurprised that Tony would come between him and Peter, "I can speak with the child in front of his carers. They are of no concern to me." The smile broadened as he remembered Peter's heart-warming smile, which completely obliterated the looming face of Stark and his golden haired fiancé, the man with the star.

Thor's own head nodded before he peered over his notes again. Loki took the opportunity to glance over him. He concluded that the food must have been adequate on Earth as his brother hadn't lost an inch of muscle, much less the lustre of his blue eyes and the apparent vibrancy of his manner. There would have to be enough challenges to keep him occupied because he didn't seem bored or tired when he came for visits, often regaling them with tales of heroism and bravery; the victor always them, the loser always their enemy.

"The spaceman is an easily manipulated being – he is delicate in his manner, though you will know when you have angered him."

"Oh? And how so, my Prince?"

"Please, do not call me that," a flicker of distress entered the sapphire eyes, "That is for the citizens of Asgard, but not for you. You are my brother, Loki. Please do not call me your prince."

"Speak of Peter; I have no time for sentiment."

Thor wanted to scream at him but he kept his calm, knowing that Loki's ways were a mystery even to himself, "His powers can become overexerted quickly, and he must use them in short bursts. Tony informs us that he is growing in control but, until we see significant improvement, we are unable to use it to our advantage."

"Ah, I almost forgot; Peter is one of the Avengers, is he not?" that smug smile danced over the God's face again, as though he had gained something in the reality of the child's situation, "His life in danger every second. What sort of childhood is that, Thor? Does Tony wish to see him die?"

"Do not speak ill of Tony. He wishes for nothing but Peter's strength and vitality."

"Yet, he allows him into wars that he is far too young for. My, my – what a lovely little family you have there, Thor. Am I truly the danger to the spaceman?" his eyes glinted when he saw his brother falter, losing faith in all he knew and becoming enthralled to Loki's charms. He had done it once before, long ago as he was trapped on Earth, granted that particular incident didn't end well for him.

But soon enough, the fire returned to his eyes, "You shall speak not of our setup, but shall hear the terms in which you might come to Earth." Loki sat back in his seat as far as his cuffs would allow, the chains tight when he finally waved his arms for continuation. "Steve wishes for you to stay in the Tower when you are present on Midgard, though Tony is unsure about it. If such a thing comes to pass, you shall be in regular contact to young Peter."

A gleam in Loki's eyes, "Then that is what must happen."

"Such an agreement must be based on trust Loki, and the evidence you have given cannot lead to it."

"Must you clap me in chains to believe I would do nothing? Peter is my chief concern," the God let his legs fall from the table side, where he had been holding himself up to better relax for the chat, "I have caused much damage to Midgard. Upon reflection it was not expressly necessary, but the past cannot be changed. If it could, I would have altered what I did to young Peter on that day."

They remembered it clearly. The tesseract, the mind control, the energy demon floating in the sky; everything was as fresh as the day it had happened, as though it were occurring outside and they were just watching it.

"Loki," he felt an insufferably large hand clasp down on his, momentarily immobilising him as blue eyes met his brown, "This is a decision larger than all of Valhalla. You must be certain that your ways are behind you."

And with a determined voice, Loki replied, "If Peter is my prize for good behaviour, than I shall be a Saint amongst lepers."


	53. Thor and the Screen

"You're sure that Loki isn't planning anything?" Tony said to the looming image of Thor, screen solid as he tapped out a nonsensical tune with his biro and furrowed his brow, "I find that hard to believe."

"My brother has assured me that his ways of menace are long since behind him."

"Oh great, the crazy person says he's going to be better – that's encouraging," the billionaire's sarcasm was cutthroat though Thor didn't seem to mind, didn't even notice as he shuffled his papers and tried to organise his thoughts. That was what Tony hated; when people ignored his sarcasm, because it normally meant that they were looking for the meaning behind it.

Peter played innocently beside him in his specially made egg-chair, something that Steve had insisted on if he was going to be part of the Avengers. They couldn't control enemies or the forces of evil but, when it came to the conference room, it was like every single safety feature had been applied. The boy slid his toy horse along the sleek surface of the table, only half paying attention as his family discussed the matter.

His uncle went into detail about the sort of measures they'd have to take, which included a full-length paper that his mother prepared on how to keep Loki calm under pressure. It mentioned something about magical elements that Tony dismissed as pure slop, in addition to a couple of notes about warm chocolate and his favourite childhood staff; nothing that the Avengers couldn't handle, but definitely something that they hadn't expected.

"Okay, so we're prepared if Prince Psycho has a nervous breakdown and tries to smash up the Tower. That's good," he rubbed his index fingers against his temples, as though a throbbing headache was imminent after such ridiculous talks, "What about Pete? Any word on how we're going to get this done?"

"Loki is willing for your presence in the room, or Steve's if it's preferred. He has no quarrel with your parentage of the spaceman," a grin spread across the chiselled features, "Perhaps he would wish you to sit in, so you might find that he is truly on the path to righteousness."

"I think that'll be fine," the boy looked up from his toys, noting the subtle change in his father's voice whilst his index fingers kept massaging, swinging around in his chair like he wanted that whole business behind him. Maybe it was too much for Loki to come to Earth? No one seemed particularly happy about it, save the child and his God-like uncle…

They continued chatting about boring things after that, details that neither interested nor captivated Peter, so he turned around to try and work out his latest theory. He knew that the pieces of the universe existed – they were out there somewhere, far off in the stretches that they would never visited, protected by beings they would never understand.

As he lost himself in the delirium of science, there was a distinct lack of talking between Tony and Thor. They had caught sight of the alien some way into their conversation, when they were getting to the really tough parts of Loki's accommodation and the subtle arrangements that they would need to make, and somehow found themselves lost in that little world with him. Every material thing melted away until they were floating in space, watching the child as he picked holes in it and began to explain each imperfection.

"Pete," the billionaire eventually broke their trance, eager for his child to stop with all physics and pay attention to Steve's temporary rule, "You've got your toys there. Play with them instead."

Peter gave him a sharp look in reply, disgruntled that his research was going to be brushed aside again in favour for more childish games, such as hide and seek or the painfully simple games of chess between himself and Steve. Bless the soldier – he tried, but he was much more suited for tossing a ball around rather than an advanced board game.

"What's going on in here?" the soft voice of his other father said as he walked in, armed with three subways and a big smile stretched across his face, "Hey, Thor."

"Hello Captain," the God noted whilst the family below him settled down, Peter rushing up to his father and climbing to his broad shoulders in joy, mostly because he was starving for his lunch. It was nice to see him using Steve as monkey bars; there was an air of humour in the soldier as he began to tickle his son, prying his tiny arms from him so he could gain better access to his stomach.

"What's going on? Bring me up to speed."

"Blondie's been filling me in on what his psychotic brother wants and Pete's been doing physics."

"I thought we agreed no physics?"

"We did, he didn't."

Steve couldn't help but let a smile stretch across his face, barely holding back laughter as he tried to fix his son with a serious gaze. Peter's wicked grin was enough to make it come out though, more in short bursts than a prolonged bout of side aching giggles.

"You're going to keep being cheeky about this, aren't you?" he cooed as though he'd forgotten their delicate stage of arrangements, "We better start giving you rewards for every day without physics. How about sweets?"

"No fair; I just get moaned at when I don't do my work," Tony's sulk was as false as the sore look on his face, quickly replaced by a soft chuckle before he gave his son a gentle pet.

Thor let the pair play with their boy before he finally cleared his throat, eager to get to his own family, "We shall have arrived on Midgard in two Earth days. Is that too soon?"

"That should be fine. JARVIS would've finished the arrangements and modifications by then."

"Then we shall look forward to seeing you," the God smiled as he waved goodbye to them, taking extra special care with young Peter's goodbye, "and we shall be certain to bring with us a gift, little spaceman."


	54. Slumber

Peter dreamt warm dreams on the day Loki was arriving, such as his fathers' impending wedding and the equations for his theories. His nap remained undisturbed by the family he loved most, content to work around him, sometimes stopping their lives just so they could watch his adorable face crease in slumber and his chest rise and fall in time with his breath.

"Is he okay?" Tony mouthed when he walked into the lab, noting that his child hadn't moved after he'd fallen asleep on the worktop. Bruce nodded his reply before covering him with a shawl, careful to place the softest pillow he could find under the boy's slightly flushed cheek.

"Hasn't moved since you left."

"That's great," his dark locks were ruffled by Stark's hand as he went back to his work, the momentary snack break extended after he ran into Steve and shared a few concerned words with him. Loki's chamber was finally ready – equipped with the latest of JARVIS defence and a bunch of hastily made Stark Industries tech, it was one of the most secure areas in the entire world, made even safer by the fact there was a Hulk just beneath it.

Silence was left hanging for a few hours whilst the two men went about their work, as if intent to complete it all before Loki came into their lives. Occasionally they would stop to check on little Peter, who kept himself busy in the world of dreams and took up Tony's most crucial workspace, granted the billionaire felt the corners of his lips twitching rather than the blind rage of inconvenience.

When about two hours had gone by, Bruce finally felt himself confident enough to talk, "Loki's on his way today. When's he supposed to turn up?"

"Sometime after dinner. Steve's making Pete's favourite tonight," it was obvious Loki was the last thing the tycoon wanted to talk about, perhaps even the last thing he wanted on his mind when it came down to it, though he hoped the topic change would be enough to sate his fellow researcher.

"Oh great," a chuckle, "Fish fingers with heaps of mash potato."

"Don't forget the ketchup!"

"How could I? Last time we had ketchup, he ended up getting most of it on his clothes," the spark of impish glee passed through Bruce's dark eyes, the same spark that Peter had worn on that very night, "Nice to know he loves his designer labels so much, isn't it?" Tony nodded in confirmation before he turned back to his work, smiling foolishly because his life had turned out so perfectly. What did it matter if he was hounded on television and had to put his life at risk every day? He had his little boy waiting at home for him, ready to make all the stress disappear with just one glimpse of his smile.

"Tony," he looked up to see Banner's eyes back on him. With a tight-lipped smile, he tried to ignore the seriousness in them and gave him an approving nod. "You're not alright with this, are you? Loki I mean."

"What gave it away? The fact he's a murdering nutcase who tried to kill me, or that green works really well on him?"

"The fact that you haven't taken your hand off Pete's leg since you got in here."

Tony looked down, suddenly aware that he had been gripping his child's shin through the green fabric of the shawl. Quickly he released it which earned a stir from Peter, a giggle from Bruce and a sort of half-blush for himself, though he'd not blushed since he was fourteen and had first been propositioned by a girl. Ah, the follies of youth…

"He'll hurt him," the billionaire kept his eyes glued to the little circuit board in front of him, still so bare and lifeless in his hands yet, somehow, all piecing together in his amazingly skilled mind, "I don't want him to get hurt. Loki's not right, Bruce. He's not right in the head."

A hand fell upon his tensed shoulder, "I know that. But he's also Thor's brother, and that means we've got to give him a chance. Doesn't mean we have to put Pete in harm's way or that we have to fully accept him yet, but we've got to give him the chance. Don't you think that's fair?"

"Fair doesn't make the world go round, Brucey."

"But it makes the world more tolerable to live in."

"Putting Steve's argument out there? Low blow. When did you hear him say that?"

"Steve said that?" he pulled his glasses that were balanced precariously on his nose, rubbing his eyes as though the energy of that conversation was leaving him, "Never heard him. We'll just have to put up with Loki. He does something we don't like and we'll send him back to Asgard faster than you can say 'magic.' Is that reasonable?"

There was a flicker of distrust in Tony's eyes. He was calculating everything in his head, weighing up the options between right and wrong as those brown eyes bore into him, pleading, quiet.

"Fine. I'll give him a shot," he looked at his slumbering little boy, "But one wrong move, Brucey, and I'll make sure he lives to regret it."


	55. The Arrival

The bolt of lightning came down on top of the famed Stark Tower, where two men suddenly stood; obsidian haired madman clapped in irons, Loki, the golden beacon of Godly hope, Thor. There were grins on their faces as Steve came out to meet them, eyeing his enemy suspiciously as he thought about all the things that could have gone wrong.

"It's good to see you Thor," he greeted his friend cheerfully before turning to Loki, his hand outstretched to show good faith, "Loki."

"My hands are chained, Captain America," the God pointed out airily, not really sounding as though he cared about the stupidity around him or the blush that crept along Steve's cheeks, because he didn't. He just wanted to get straight to seeing Peter. They would have an eternity to 'build bridges' between themselves, even if the team didn't quite know it.

"Right. Sorry," there was the faintest hint of a frown on Rogers' face when he turned, his steps towards the door tentative as he didn't realise how the situation would affect him. He wanted to be alright and see Loki as little more than a man willing to change his life, but he couldn't quite make himself. All he saw was the face laughing at them from Chitauri invaders, the reason why Tony had almost died, the madman who had rid people of their loved ones. Could he really stand to see him talk to Peter?

Those thoughts were alive when they stepped inside the lift. Shining metal caught Loki's interests well enough, making him turn to look at it whilst admiring the glowing buttons on the control pad, how easily it moved down the well-designed chute. Perhaps humans weren't so incompetent. They certainly seemed capable of making their own society, what with the beautiful city streets just beyond the glass and the way they milled about their lives, so oblivious to the invader in the lift that they didn't even care to scream.

"Where is young Peter?"

"He's having a bath," Steve replied to his golden haired friend, almost as an afterthought as he peered closely at his Nokia brick, "He won't be out for a while. Tony bought him new bath toys." That smile flickered on his face when he finally made out the text – '_Pete's broken the shower. Not quite sure how it happened. One minute there was a rubber duck, next minute, broken showerhead. Fixing it now. T xx."_

The kisses were a recent feature to Tony's texting. He had always signed his texts with the trademark 'T' and, if people were lucky, an occasional 'S' to go with it, though Steve got the special treatment. He loved the little sentiments his lover tried to give him, even if they were slightly less romantic than a bouquet of roses or being serenaded in their room.

"What am I to do with my brother?" Thor cast him a quizzical look as a beam spread across his face, though he wasn't nosy enough to inquire why, "We have travelled far."

Loki couldn't resist a quip, "I am not an infant, Thor. Besides, the Bifrost Bridge cuts the journey to practically no mileage." The green eyes bore into the bright blue ones as though they were in a battle, the fusion more deadly than a cobra's bite whilst Steve kept his eyes locked on his dark screen, completely oblivious.

"Hm?" finally the solider looked up with a smile on his face, "Sorry Thor; what were you saying?"

"I was merely asking where we will put Loki until the spaceman is ready. Did Tony prepare his accommodations?"

"Yeah, but I don't think it'll be good to just lock him up. That's not good hospitality, is it?"

Loki let out a sneer, "It was a good enough solution when I invaded." There was a sprinkling of anger in Steve's eyes when he turned round but he didn't lose his cool, determined to be the bigger man in their situation.

"That's not how we treat people that live in the Tower," he murmured, eyes dark with the extent of his control, "Not when they're part of our friend's family, either. You brought your punishment on yourself. And while you're here, we don't want a repeat of the Chitauri invasion, got it?" his voice was something to be feared, something that Loki actually listened to and nodded once it had rang out.

"That shall not be a problem – I've no longer a wish to see you burn, Captain," the God assured him with his most comforting of smiles, which still looked peculiarly like a serpent's grin, "My homeland has surely made me aware of your proclivities. You shall destroy yourself sooner or later; these have no concern to me, as I am just here for young Peter."

Before Steve could add any input, the elevator's doors slid open to reveal their conference room. Loki shuddered to set foot inside it. The flashbacks of Hulk's horrifying attack were enough to make him want to turn around, make him want to run from that stylish room and disappear back to Asgard, where he knew what to expect. But because he wanted to see Peter so much, he just walked in with his head held high.

They were seated on the leather sofas, with Steve at the bar preparing drinks. He didn't quite know what the Gods liked but Tony had a wonderful selection, including expensive mead and imported types of beer. Surely that would do?

Loki didn't know what to do. He didn't know where to put his hands or how to sit, so certain that there was a type of protocol for what they were doing. The silvertongue was nothing if not practical. He wouldn't be caught doing something that was deemed socially unacceptable, not until he'd had the chance to exploit it first.

"You may rest easy brother," Thor whispered once he took his glass from Steve, noting it was much larger than Loki's because, well, the dark haired God was far smaller than his muscular brother, "You are not judged here. It is by the actions you take that they shall deem you worthy, not by the way you sit."


	56. Uncle Loki

"Uncle Loki!"

The God was quickly pelted by what felt like a cannonball, childish squeals filling the room as Peter was so excited to see his beloved uncle from beyond the stars. A gentle hand was placed against Loki's soft face whilst dark green eyes met light ones, perfectly matched, perfectly intelligent.

"Little one," he purred softly as he tried to correct himself, though it was difficult with such a heavy little mass on him, "I've missed you terribly."

"Missed you," Peter's head fell on his shoulder, his father at the other side holding his wet towel and thankful he had opted to put pyjamas on him. God knows his son walked around without shame of his form, rather like Tony after one too many drinks or Steve after a harsh workout.

There was silence as the men watched them, even Thor made quiet when he noted the tender way Loki's eyes glowed and how Peter rubbed his face against the madman's shoulder, like they were long lost brothers being reunited. The God even went as far to kiss his nephew's cool forehead, an action that wasn't quite loved by Tony but allowed for the occasion.

Then the billionaire felt the need to speak, "Come on Pete – let me get your hair combed before we do anything, yeah?" it was a slow response but a response nonetheless, with Peter slowly pushing himself from his cuffed uncle and wandering to his comb-armed father, who wore a massive smile on his face when he looked at his boy.

"He has grown since I last saw him?" Loki asked casually as though to make conversation, "He is far heavier. What has he eaten to make him seem so much heavier?"

"Perhaps it is gravity on this planet, my brother," Thor suggested, pleased that his companion was finally talking like they were his equals rather than ants in the dust, "There are many subtle differences to this world and Asgard. We would do well to remember these things."

With a grunt of response, Loki watched as the boy's dark locks were combed into submission, the wildness in them tamed so that he bore more resemblance to Tony than anything else. A flicker of a smirk came across his face; he remembered hearing that Peter loved to make his hair messy, if only because he liked the way his father fussed over it and tried to make it perfect.

"You're such a cute kid Pete," the billionaire was saying as if to himself, "No wonder the magazines love you so much. Those photographers just love your little face, don't they? It's because you're adorable." The way his son grinned struck a nerve for Loki, who remembered the pride he felt when his father was praising of him, recalling the way he would blush when Odin stroked his cheek and spoke with wonderment about his magic.

Those thoughts weren't helping him. He pushed them away so that he could focus on the little alien in front of them, so innocently giggling under the weight of Tony's comb and the way Steve tickled at him, suddenly enthralled by the adorable face of his child.

"Uncle Loki?" Peter turned his eyes to look at the God, smiling that heart-warming smile and basking everyone in the glow of his youth, "Play?" there was an intense want in Loki's heart to jump up and indulge himself in a game, but he simply showed the handcuffs as a way of explanation. The child barely deflated as he nimbly escaped his father's hands, rushing up to touch the chains on his uncle's wrists.

Tony didn't want to release him. He didn't want to believe that Peter could want to play with Loki, not Loki, who had tried to destroy all of New York and wanted to take over the world, quite possibly just to torture its poor inhabitants. But the Avengers were nothing if not forgiving; Steve had made sure of that, what with his Christian mannerisms and beliefs.

"Thor," the billionaire looked up at his friend with soft eyes, "Get the cuffs off Loki for a bit. I think you'd be Pete's favourite if you do."

There was a brief second in which everyone was trying to comprehend the words. Steve looked distressed as he watched Thor's hands reach for the keys, as though he were reaching for a gun concealed in his Asgardian pockets, but he kept his protests back. His son wanted to be Loki's friend. He wanted to see the good in Loki, and the soldier would be damned if he were the reason Peter didn't see it.

"Little one!" the arms opened, free from the chains of oppression as the little boy flung himself forward, hugging his uncle tightly with no flicker of anxiety in his face.

"Uncle Loki!"

"You are far heavier than I remember. Perhaps Thor is right – perhaps the gravity of this world is larger than that of Asgard," he was rambling because he was so happy, so contented with that little boy in his arms. His brother felt a smile flicker to his face, as it had been a long time since Loki even implied that he was right. "You are looking well. Is there a reason for that smile, little one?"

Peter's grin nuzzled into the green shoulder of his uncle, gently humming his comfort as though it were the most blissful place to be. His fathers actually let smiles flick to their faces; it was a wonderful to see their son so happy.

They just had to keep their eye on Loki.


	57. The God's Sweet Story

The pair spoke until it was ridiculously late. One AM rolled round the corner as Loki played with Peter's hair, smiling whilst the child babbled on about his life in New York and allowing for the short moments in which he would be silent, calculating his next sentence in his head before he said it.

"You are such a free thinker little one," the God commented once his nephew had fallen silent again, that time content to nuzzle his head in the fabric covered shoulder and hum his comfort, "I like that. Promise me you will never change it about yourself, no matter what the future has for you."

"Promise," Peter murmured softly. Tony, who had spent his time trying to fix blueprints and work out the design for his newest piece of tech, heard the little conversations they were having, and damned if he wasn't feeling the slightest niggle of joy at it. The way his son spoke, the way he seemed so excited; it were as if the kidnapping had never happened. Peter was a forgiving little boy, though that wasn't always a good thing in their line of work.

A sigh echoed from the billionaire's lips as he turned, forcing a smile to his little boy, "It's way past your bedtime, bucko. Say goodnight to…"

"Uncle Loki," the God interrupted him with his own smile, his finger curled on one rebellious dark lock, "Peter prefers Uncle Loki, so that is what I shall be called." His once-enemy nodded quickly as if to say 'got it' before he turned back to the quiet child, that same smile on his lips and the dark circles under his eyes worsening.

"It's time for bed."

"But Daddy-"

"No buts," with another sigh he rose from the barstool, his abandonment of the blueprints quickly noted by Loki as he picked his child up, "It's late. I'm sure Uncle Loki wants to get some sleep too." There was a glint of mischief in the God's eyes because that was the last thing he wanted to do, to leave the little boy he had travelled so far for and disappear into the darkness of his dreams, though he said nothing. He didn't want to risk raising Tony's ire. Especially not with Bruce somewhere in the Tower.

Peter looked first at his father, and then at Loki. Love sparked in his dark green irises whilst brainwaves rattled through his skull, as though he were contemplating arguing with the billionaire so that he could stay with his uncle. But soon enough he just gave that adorable smile and nodded.

"Er," Tony looked down at the unchained visitor in front of them, suddenly aware of the awkwardness of their situation, "Do you want to…come help me tuck Pete in? He's…well, he likes…having stories and stuff so, you could read him something, I guess."

The way he shrugged betrayed the discomfort Tony felt, knowing that he was technically inviting a murderer to read his son a bedtime story. There wasn't anything for it – Loki's eyes suddenly sparked up with a sort of foolish joy, the type that someone felt when they were told they were allowed to run for president or follow their greatest dream. Peter squealed ecstatically when the God stood, taking the little boy from his father with a smile on his face.

"Perhaps I could tell him the story of my childhood pet," he mused whilst they walked to the elevator, the boy a giggling mass in his arms and his father the usual sceptic, just knowing that he would regret asking what he was about to ask.

His breath became deep as he said, "What's that story about?" Loki gave him a curious look, because no one had ever bothered asking him a follow up question. It was strange how they worked on Midgard.

"I…" his eyes became slightly distant when he recalled the tale, "I had a pet once; a hunting dog by the name of Ægir. We used to go out to the forest when Thor was being pampered, so we spent much time with one another."

"Sounds nice."

"It was. He was a fine beast and an excellent companion."

Peter's eyes glimmered as he looked up at Loki, his own eyes inflicted with unshed pain. The child instantly placed his head down in a way of comforting his uncle, just so that his eyes would no longer sparkle and he wouldn't feel so upset about a dog long gone.

"What happened to him?" Tony's own concern was filtering through. He hadn't been a caring man before he met Steve but, soon after the super soldier had walked into his heart and set up their little family, he found himself giving a damn what other people felt, especially people that Peter held in such high regard.

Again, Loki's eyes went distant, "There was a hunting trip. Thor took Ægir instead of his own beast, stating that it was far more suited to the terrain they would be hunting on. Elk accident, if I recall. He never returned with the body." There was that pain, the soft subtle change that made Loki seem more…human.

And Tony just couldn't help placing a hand on his shoulder, couldn't help feeling a slight sadness for the God that had tried to kill him. Peter noted the action and Loki's reaction, which was simply a stiffening of the muscles and the flicker of a smile on the corners of his lips, as though he were holding back his peaceful side.

"That story will be fine." The billionaire said, sincere for once in his life, "Pete'll love it. He's starting to get a bit bored of the old books we've got here; fairytales aren't his cup of tea."

"Then he shall enjoy my residence on Midgard. I have many stories that I can pass onto him."

"Do that. He'll love you for it."


	58. Trust

A few weeks went by without so much as a whiff of trouble. Loki spent his time playing with Peter, busying himself with the boy's childish games and performing magic tricks for him when he got bored, which caused strange changes within the team's mood. They didn't bother supervising the play-dates after the first week; the God of Mischief didn't try to pull the wool over their eyes, not even when Tony was called away suddenly and had been forced to leave the pair unattended.

So Steve wasn't surprised when he walked into Peter's playroom and found them there, the God's fingers laced in his son's as they picked apart his latest invention. A smile flickered on his lips; it was good that the boy finally had one doting uncle who could drop everything for him, and not just a collection that dealt in very important work.

"You two okay?" he asked before picking up the child, that smile unwavering despite Loki's green eyes piercing into his, "It's almost lunchtime. You're joining us, aren't you?" there was a small moment of silence between them before the trickster shrugged, uncertain that he would be welcome, knowing that Clint was still furious with his presence and he'd start a fight in front of Peter.

That caught Steve's attention. Much time had passed and Barton, though still untrusting of Loki, had accepted that his presence was to be a permanent thing, and that Peter was beginning to love the God. Nothing would make him forgive him – that was unthinkable – but it was starting to become easier to forget about the incident, to forget that he had caused such pain.

"Hey, Pete; why don't you go downstairs and help Uncle Bruce lay the table?" the child looked up at his father with a glimmer in his eyes. It looked for a moment as if he would refuse but, after taking a quick glance at Loki, he nodded and descended from the soldier's arms, that happy smile on his face as he gave them a quick wave and rushed off to the elevator. Loki felt his own smile threatening when the leader turned, his gaze serious.

"Captain."

"Pete's taken a liking to you," he observed as he sat on the nearest chair, a small blue piece that Tony had specially made, "He trusts you."

"And I trust him." The flicker of curiousity in Loki's eyes made Steve want to tell him exactly where they stood, but he had to be careful. He still wanted to be certain that the God wasn't just biding his time, playing his cards until the moment he could exploit them and get the Jackpot.

So he took a sigh, fingers on the bridge of his nose, "It's a weird setup we've got here. Technically, you're still a wanted criminal. Technically, we shouldn't have you on Earth, let alone the Tower."

"We've made a deal," the God pointed out as he rose to his feet, his hands abandoning the little metal music box that they had been working on, "I like Peter. I…enjoy Midgardian culture. On the terms of my contract, I have done no wrong to Earth."

"We know that, but it doesn't stop you being a criminal. You've got to earn the trust of the team as well as Pete, or else it's not going to work," the way the soldier sat commanded respect, what with his hunched shoulders and the way he gazed determinedly at the man in front of him, observant, calm, collected.

It made Loki feel compelled to reply as he leant against the desk, his own stance as relaxed as he could make it, "How would you suggest I go about such a task, Captain?"

"Well, for one, you can stop calling me 'Captain.' It's Steve in the Tower or at a stretch, Rogers."

"As you wish, Rogers."

A faint hint of irritation danced across his face, "And Tony isn't 'Stark' or 'Metal Man.' Bruce isn't monster. Natasha isn't 'Russian Harlot.' Clint isn't 'Bird feed.' Honestly, I'm not sure how he didn't kill you when he heard you called him that."

"I have my ways, Rogers. And what of the one you call Fury, hm? What shall I call him if I am to stay in the Tower?" the smile on Loki's face betrayed his amusement, his joy at the fact no one had lain a finger on him despite the many nicknames. Steve's own face stretched into a smile as his head hung down, his shoulders tensed until he brought his gaze back up to the God.

"I actually like your name for Fury."

"So I am to keep referring to him as Half Sight?"

"Well, he's only grumbled about it so far," with that Steve stood up, his smile broadening as he heard the familiar voice of JARVIS telling them lunch was ready, and the following voice of Tony speaking on the intercom.

"Really, JARVIS?" the billionaire moaned, "I was gonna be all romantic and tell Steve I've prepared lunch with my own two hands. Why'd you have to ruin it?"

"Sir, I am afraid that Captain America is fully aware that Thor prepared the meal this afternoon."

"Like it matters."

The argument between his sassy mouthed AI and him went on for a while, long enough for Loki to grow bored with the metallic voices and turn back to the solider. His green eyes glistened with curiousity as he peered at him, his gaze raking over the polo shirt and jeans as though he were disdainful of them, as though he imagined such a man would wear something more…grand.

"And how do you propose I gain the team's trust through other means? If calling you by your names is all it takes, I am surprised Earth is not destroyed."

Another flickering smile, "You could join us for lunch. I'm sure Pete will be thrilled to have you there, especially since he's got lessons this afternoon." Steve had folded on the whole 'no lessons' for a while, considering the fact that Peter had become distressed without his calculus or advanced physics talks.

"Very well," he said, his arm stretched out, "I shall do that if it shall make Peter happy."


	59. Language

Loki joined them for lunch that day and when it proved to be no trouble, he saw no reason not to join them for dinner. As the days trickled past he became a regular person at the table, a seat in between Peter and Thor, a forced smile on his face that slowly became genuine.

That was why when he didn't come to the table, Steve felt a twinge of nervousness. The God hadn't been seen at all that day and they thought he had never left his room, despite the fact he had promised Peter that they would play another game of chess that morning. Even Barton noticed that the obsidian haired madman was missing, granted he was a little less worried for him.

"Where's Loki?" the super soldier asked his lover when he walked in, armed with a large array of schematics and a big smile on his bearded face. He took a moment to glance at him as he set them down, his brow furrowed whilst he tried to get through the muddle of designs.

"Loki? I haven't seen him all day," Tony's reply was what Steve was expecting, though it didn't make him less nervous, "Pete, have you seen Uncle Loki today?" the child shook his head, eyes still on his strange looking fish dinner and his mind on what would be for pudding.

"That's strange. Don't you think that's strange? He's not missed a meal since he started joining us."

"Maybe he's sick?" the suggestion came from Bruce, who had been carefully transforming his food into a small replica of his latest invention. The smile that flickered to his face was refreshing; Joanna and he hadn't spoken in a few days, which normally meant the scientist's mood was a little less agreeable.

"Loki has not been sick since we were children," Thor said through a mouthful of fish, "His magic disables him from falling ill. At least, that is what he has always told me, and I have not seen him unwell for that time."

Instantly, the mood around the table changed. It wasn't just a thought on Loki's magic – it was for his health, their understanding of it meaning that they knew something must have been wrong. The God never missed an opportunity to be with Peter. He had been there long enough to prove that.

Tony opted to go up there before anyone else could. When Steve rushed after him, he couldn't help but wonder what was going through the leader's mind and how close they had become. Loki seemed to enjoy speaking to Steve more than anything; admittedly, it was probably because he was far more respectable than a good portion of the other Avengers, what with his awe-shucks personality and decent humility.

"You're worried," the billionaire noted whilst they stood in the lift, that God-awful music playing where Bruce hadn't uninstalled it, "Why are you so worried?" the super soldier's heart was beating so loudly that it was almost audible, his forehead sweating as he gazed at the lit up lift's buttons.

The steadying breath he took was followed by an explanation, "I worry about Loki. He's starting to fit in here."

"And I suppose you don't mean like furniture," the billionaire rose his eyebrows when he turned his gaze, intent to hear what Steve had to say rather than brush it off again.

"No. He's not like furniture. Pete trusts him. Pete loves him. And…well, I don't know, he's kept to his agreement so far…"

"You're not saying that you're starting to trust him, are you? Because Steve, that's sort of stupid."

"I don't know Tony," blue eyes met brown as he let a frown transcend his face, "He's starting to make me trust him. He's followed his contract to the letter, kept himself close to Pete and hasn't started any trouble, not even in prank-form. That seems to me like a guy who wants to be trusted."

The billionaire could only shake his head, turning away from him like he couldn't believe it. A laugh escaped his lips too, but a soft one, the sort that was given sarcastically or meant for a parent's poor attempt at a joke.

"Don't laugh at me Tony." A heavy hand clapped on his shoulder, the red fabric of his shirt gently rubbed by it as blue eyes bored into the back of his head. "It's legitimate. I actually feel like he's becoming part of the family."

"Oh, I know. So am I." the admission is shocking, shocking enough to make Steve look at him in disbelief and let his mouth hang open, staring at his lover like he was about to disappear. But before he could say anything else the lift dinged, and he watched with discomfort as the doors opened onto Loki's floor.

On that floor, it was chaotic. Things floated aimlessly through the air when they should have been on the floor, perhaps in small sections where it would look nice, though Loki seemed to care little for that. Paintings of contorted beasts sat around the walls that led to the one room, the windows showing the park where Peter would sometimes play football with Steve. The soldier could have sworn he saw Loki buy those very pieces, but they had been of normal creatures without such distorted limbs.

Tony had the only explanation whilst they walked down the hall, his hands a sort of controlled waving in front of him, "Magic. Mischief. Must be Loki's way of getting some of it out." Steve nodded in reply though he didn't care too much, just worrying that Loki was locked up in his room without food.

They knocked on the door, and were met with silence. The wooden entrance remained unmoved as they stood there, waiting for a response, their feet tapping against the crimson carpet floor whilst they heard faint scuffling inside. Tony took a moment to glance at his lover before clearing his throat.

"Loki? Can you open the door? Everyone's waiting for you downstairs."

"Pete's down there too," Steve added quickly, as though hoping that it would entice the Trickster out. When they are met with nothing, the soldier quickly opts to break the door down. It wasn't the most desirable of solutions but, by the look in Tony's eyes, it's one that he preferred.

Loki was simply sitting at his desk, a pen in his hand as the four poster bed dropped back down to the floor. A weak smile flickered on his lips as he looked at the men, "I had so liked that door, Rogers."

"Why weren't you opening up?"

"Because I was busy. This," he gestured to the piece of paper in front of him, the ink of which was a dazzling emerald green. Tony walked up to it and peered, but he found that the language was completely unintelligible.

"That's a letter? To who?"

"Peter," he stated simply before he turned to it again, "At least, once I have gone through it and corrected my mistakes. It is the spaceman's native tongue. I have tried my hand at learning it, so that we might be able to communicate with him when his English is not enough."

Steve chimed in, "You're learning it for Pete?"

"Of course. But if he so wishes my presence at dinner, I shall be down in a few minutes," the God put his pen to the side before standing, his magic a glow around him as he changed pyjamas into respectable green shirt and jeans.

The pair left before the God so that they would be able to pass on the news, and because Loki told them he had to get his modified chess board. As soon as they stepped out into the hallway, Steve turned, his grin wide as he looked at Tony.

"What?"

"He said 'we,'" the man stated simply.


	60. The Psychic

Time stayed still. Peter and Loki sat in front of each other, the boy's eyes glowing red as they delved deeper into a psychic world, their movements restricted to the odd twitch whilst their eyes didn't waver from each other.

"How long have they been like that?" Bruce asked when he finally walked into the playroom, brow furrowing as he gazed at his nephew, "When did you find them?"

Steve, who had been watching the pair since he found them that morning, shrugged his reply and kept his hands clasped together, eyes twinkling with fear as he kept them stuck on his child. He knew nothing bad was going on; it was just frightening that they could dive into that world whenever they wanted, what with their magic and psychic abilities.

"What's going on?" Tony rushed in right behind his researcher friend, obviously irritated that he had been pulled from an extremely important meeting that he couldn't care less about. When his eyes fell upon the distant Loki and glowing red Peter, he pieced everything together without asking.

"Where's Thor?"

"He's busy with Jane. We've not heard anything back from our last text."

"That's not good enough, Bruce."

"That's the best I can do," the researcher touched his nephew's head with a sad sort of smile, his fingers coated in the slick sweat produced by Peter's powers, his hand flat as he checked the child's temperature. It wasn't hot, but he certainly was exerting himself.

Tony was quick to lay his briefcase down and even quicker to take off his suit, with a relish that told him he hated wearing such formal clothes. Underneath it laid his most casual clothing – the Ironman themed shirt and most frayed, comfortable black jeans, as though they were a sort of rebellion against the soft fabric of his suit.

"What're they doing? Is it some sort of weird alien thing?" the billionaire's inquiries were met with a confused gaze from his lover, informing him that they had no idea what was going on. That made him angry. Not angry at Loki or Peter, but rather himself. Shouldn't he have seen everything that was happening in the Tower, especially when his son was concerned?

"Sirs," their attentions were yanked above them when JARVIS began to speak, "I am afraid that they are deeply within a psychic link. Loki had spoken of hearing Peter's story, but the child could not do that without a rapport between them. What you're seeing here is simply their empty shells. Their psyches are not present."

There was a silence as Tony looked at the pair, their eyes as distant as his when Pepper had spoken about their relationship. He recalled a time when young Peter had done the same thing; sometimes, when the billionaire came in from a long day and went to inspect his child, the unresponsiveness of said child was terrifying.

That was when Loki's green eyes suddenly flooded back with recognition and, without paying attention to the men that suddenly surrounded them, he smiled softly at the child. The glowing red eyes faded to reveal his own green emeralds, dark despite the glittering within them.

"Thank you for that, Peter," his voice was small when he spoke, and they noticed the tears that sparkled against his eyelashes, "Thank you for showing me what happened to you."

Peter could only smile back at him, nodding his head like it was nothing for him, "Love Uncle Loki. Peter come from far away. Peter show everyone?" he turned to the men behind him who were beginning to feel stupid, strangely peering at Loki as though they wanted to know what had happened.

"What was going on there?" Tony asked before anyone could stop him. He took the seat beside his lover as his eyes stayed rigid on Loki, completely silent in his wait for an answer, observant of the faint smiles they passed between each other.

"Peter was just showing me what he went through during his adventures," the God explained with an even voice, "We were going through the shorter version, and that required visual aid. It is a riveting tale. I cannot imagine going through what Peter has gone through." There was sincerity in his voice, something that Tony wasn't prepared for and hadn't thought of a comeback to. Usually they just came to him, like a kneejerk reaction, but he found himself just staring at the pair without something in his brain, as if he had been struck dumb. It was Steve who took over when he saw his boyfriend flailing.

And he did so in the strongest voice he could, "Maybe we should take the time to hear about that soon. But for now, Pete looks exhausted." It was true; the child's eyes were sleepy and his breathing was laboured, granted he hadn't collapsed as he usually would. Bruce felt a smile, since it meant that Peter was either gaining more control of his powers or they were developing to the point that he didn't have to control them. He hoped for the first option.

"Captain Daddy, Daddy," his arms rose and gestured for his fathers, though Steve was the one to pick him up. Tony's mind was swamped with what had just happened and he was trying to piece it together, just so he could make sense of it.

Bruce of course, was more curious about what had happened, "What was the story? Could you tell us about it?"

"I'm afraid not," Loki smiled through his tiredness, the experience taking more out of him than he realised, "He has asked me expressly to keep that hidden, at least for the time being. I would not want to break this trust."

There was a silence for a moment. Bruce first looked at Loki, and then the two men beside him, his eyes showing that he wanted to argue. But Steve was too quick for a discussion to break out.

"Let's go get Pete something to eat and put him down for a nap. Loki," he added meaningfully to the God, "I think we should talk about this later."


	61. Dinner with the God

Bared teeth. Bared teeth and flashed gums. Bared teeth, flashed gums and a wriggling tongue. Bared teeth, flashed gums, a wriggling tongue and a wrinkled nose.

Those were some of the faces that Loki and Peter were making in the mirror, watched only by Thor as the God tried to get over his recent argument with Jane. His laughter was huffed out occasionally when his brother made an incredibly strange face, though it secretly made him feel pleased. It had been a long time since Loki simply enjoyed himself.

Peter giggled before pressing his forehead against the side of his uncle's face, that smile on his face that could melt the hardest of ice. Steve and Tony were busy with a very important aspect of their wedding when they realised they had hardly seen their son, and were on their way to find him when they heard the giggling.

"What's going on here, then?" the billionaire asked as he strode confidently in the room, that award-winning smile on his face whilst his eyes locked onto the pair, "Making faces in the mirror? Ah Steve, do you remember doing that?"

"What, yesterday?" the smile that descended on his face was irritating, though it made the billionaire want to melt when he gazed at it. Steve quickly walked up to take their little boy, his face soft when he looked at those adorable little features and kissed them gently.

Loki could only give him an open mouthed smile, "Peter was growing bored with our games of chess. He asked me to make a face, and so I complied. It turned into somewhat of a competition." Thor confirmed his words as though he needed it, as though he needed the help despite the fact he was slowly becoming more trusted.

"Is that right? Were you making faces with Uncle Loki?"

"Daddy," he smiled through the blush on his face before burying it in Tony's shoulder, that innocent giggle ringing round the room like the most adorable thing they could hear.

Steve quickly laced his fingers in the wild dark locks and took a look at the men around him, "It's been a while since we all went out to dinner. Maybe we should go out to dinner tonight?"

Tony smirked and replied in the affirmative with Thor nodding soon afterwards, but Loki only stiffened. He looked at the man in front of him – a man he had come to respect and, in some ways, admire for his heroism – and the little boy he loved so much, before turning on his heels and looking back in the mirror.

"I will have to change my appearance. I cannot go out in public looking as I do."

"Why? Afraid of the tabloids labelling you not pretty?" Tony asked, the normal mirth in his eyes as he gazed at the God. He was met by cold eyes that suddenly forced realisation into him, something that normally came when he was spending his days on the workbenches, "The Chitauri."

"Yes. I'm not certain everyone would be as forgiving as you have been," he added the last bit with a meaningful glance at the people around him, people he had grown used to and had opted to not torture with his various pranks. He settled for doing it to the unsuspecting parents waiting in the park.

"No one even knows it was you, unless they have really good memory. Most people just saw it on the media – more concerned with the giant flying things, really. You weren't in it much."

"But I was in it enough for them to know who I am."

"Then we'll deal with that when it's a problem. If not, then we just have a really nice dinner out…formal dinner?" he looked at Steve for confirmation, who just shook his head and replied it would be a smart casual. "Good. Come on then; Pete, you're coming with me and we'll get your hair sorted. Thor, pull yourself out of moping and get ready. Steve, keep looking pretty and get the others. Loki," he turned to the God who looked so nervous, as though he were about to throw up with all of the ridiculousness going on about him.

"Stark?"

"First of all, it's Tony," he smiled broadly as he gripped the chocolate-smeared Peter, who had found the chocolate chip cookie that Steve had hidden in his breast pocket, "Secondly, I think we need to get you something more…human to wear. Go to our floor. I think I've got something that'll suit your brilliantly."


	62. Art

Loki leaned forward in the restaurant, completely uncomfortable with the situation around him. He watched as Peter giggled between his two fathers and kept a loving gaze towards his food, which was laid out as though it were beautiful artwork rather than a meal for a child. That whole place felt unnatural.

Waitresses swanned between the tables of elegantly dressed diners. Waiters had funeral bands on their arms and a cocky look on their faces. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and glinted pure gold as they shined over the customers, each one with a sense of self-worth that he wasn't sure was necessary. Frozen smiles were glanced to him whilst most eyes stayed on Peter, since the little boy was retelling a tale of pure heroism on his little pink tongue, giggling as his fathers tickled and kept their eyes open for any reporters.

Clint wasn't sitting near him. He had opted for a chair that sat almost directly across from the God, where he could keep his eyes on him and still have a relatively nice meal with his girlfriend. It was the perfect arrangement. But Loki didn't care too much, his attention more concerned with the super soldier beside his nephew.

Steve was a strange man, indeed. The God had often heard that heavy handed men such as he would have to be strong, brave and arrogant, since those were the normal traits of a warrior. But Steve…Steve had a gentle nature about him, something that could counteract the brashness of his lover and still nurture the child they had, whilst also having that air of shyness about him. The blond locks were gentle as they fell wildly on his head, neglected of the hairbrush that Tony had inflicted upon Peter's dark crest and freshened only by showers. He was a mystery to Loki when he sipped on his water, that gentle smile revealing the tips of his white teeth and his precious little dimples.

"See?" he said in the softest voice imaginable, "No one's said a word. Sorry about Tony's dress sense, by the way. Pete seems to like it."

Ah yes, the clothes. They weren't Loki's idea of feast wear. It was a simple suit that Tony had found from his younger years, just a little big for the God but not enough for it to be noticeable as he rested his jacket on the chair, still acutely uncomfortable in such a public place. It would be like the billionaire to try and embarrass him. His heart had been in the right place though, so Loki let it slide just that once.

"He seems to like a great many things."

"Well, yeah, he's only little," a light brush of the child's dark locks, enough to pull them out of his green eyes, "He'll start being all cynical like Tony soon enough…maybe not like Tony."

The billionaire narrowed his eyes before replying, "I'm not cynical. I'm realistic."

"Sometimes we need a dose of cynicism – there are a number of things that require a bleak outlook, surely? Poetry?" the God managed a grin towards the soldier as he spoke, only because he knew how Steve enjoyed poetry. He would often read it to Peter when they found themselves with a moment alone, and Loki had occasionally joined them in the recitals. It was calming; Steve's voice floating on the still air of the playroom, the child softly nuzzling into Loki as he listened to each stanza and they contemplated the various meanings, granted their small friend had often fallen asleep by that time. The soldier had a type of calming presence about him. It even made Loki feel drowsy, granted his sleeping pattern had greatly varied over the last few months.

"Poetry can be happy. It's all subjective," another flash of that smile, "It's always subjective. That's why it's called poetry. It speaks to you on a level that's not supposed to be heard by anyone else. Clint, you read a lot of poetry at one point, didn't you?"

"Enough to realise I'm not a touchy-feely guy."

"Speaks on a personal level, doesn't it?"

"I guess, if you're into that sort of thing."

Loki couldn't help let another smile form on his lips as he caressed his wine glass, "Poetry is a form of art. Art is a pastime for women on Asgard, yet you seem unashamed to be regarded as an artist." That made Steve blush slightly and Tony give his usual 'awww,' which often irritated the God, "Never fret, Rogers. I am sure many women would be happy to be categorised with you."


	63. Poetic Rest

Loki couldn't stop thinking about poetry after that. Once he had been gifted the right to read Peter's bedtime story, he made certain that he had picked up a Danny Abse collection, since he heard it would be a contrast to his more cynical counterpart Philip Larkin. The child would hang intently on his uncle's words, listening to the faint nuances and hidden meaning to the poem as Loki lost himself in it too.

"The Captain speaks truly," he mused sometime after the third poem, when he noticed that Peter was starting to lose interest in what he was saying and had wriggled into his lap instead, "He is a great lover of these people's words. There is much we can learn from them, and it seems to be the same for the Captain."

Peter nodded against the fabric of his uncle's coat, which he had neglected to take off when they returned to the Tower. A gentle hand stroked the child's hair as he pondered on the conversations they had, the 'subtle' hints from Thor that Loki was under the watchful gaze of SHIELD and, slowly, they were coming to trust him, coming to understand how he would be useful in their plans. When the God had mentioned how they would never fully trust him, his brother had told him they would do well to let him join. It was infuriating that he seemed to be deciding his path. It had happened on Asgard, and it wouldn't happen on Earth.

Steve had defended him of course, though Tony and Bruce had voiced their opinions for it. Clint and Fury were silent on the ordeal whilst Natasha, ever the sort to keep her cards close to her, watched what was going on, selecting what side she wanted to be on when the time was right.

The thought made him grow angry enough to curl a lock of hair around his finger, which made Peter look up with his big innocent eyes, his perfect thin lipped smile, "Uncle Loki?" there was a flicker of love on Loki's face before he replied in his rehearsed native language, hoping that the child would find it easier, though he simply continued in English, "Captain Daddy read. Read, Uncle Loki? Read for Peter?"

He nudged the poetry book back as he spoke, yet Loki didn't want to pick it up. He felt an insufferable smile creep along his face as he imagined Steve reading to his child, his huge bulk leaning over the fragile little creature he looked after, that intense gaze on one of the frustratingly simple infant's books that lined Peter's shelves. It should have been comical, to imagine the good Captain doing something so trivial. But it wasn't. It made Loki want to smile even wider.

"Perhaps it would be best if you were to sleep, little one," he suggested softly, placing the child on the soft bedding beneath them, "There is much to do tomorrow. Stark mentioned that there are many…theories that you are to be covering in your lessons, and I'm certain the sleep will aid you."

There was a soft mewl of protest before Peter shut his eyes, heavy with the burden of drowsiness and warm feeling of dinner in his stomach, whilst Loki went about tucking him in. He had been sure that the duvet was around his ears before he left the room.

"Is he asleep?" the deep voice caused him to jump at first, his hands twitching as he charged up his powers and went to protect his nephew. A scarlet hue threatened when he saw Steve's piercing blue eyes staring at him.

"The little one is peacefully at rest."

"That's good; I'm starting to get worried. He's not sleeping properly since our last test," as he spoke the Captain moved to open the door, just a crack so he could peer at his sleeping boy. The smile that stretched on his face was pure love.

"Stark is very interested in learning the nuances of his powers."

"Sometimes a little too much," he admitted quietly whilst pulling the door shut again, "I'm starting to think he's more in danger with Tony's experiments than with our enemies."

Instantly the blue eyes met green, the shock in them enough to zap Loki down to the floor and revive him again, "I didn't mean that. I don't think Tony's putting him in danger – I…I say things sometimes that-"

"I understand the frustrations that come with relationships. That is why I have chosen to keep myself out of them," the God noted the smile that stretched on Steve's lips, something that was uncommon for the leader and certainly uncommon to wear in front of a once-enemy.

"That's probably the smart thing to do," he laughed, revealing two rows of white teeth hidden behind his lips. There was a moment in which he looked like the pinnacle of all happiness, the poster boy for how to get through someone's problems as he turned, a hand pressed against the door that protected the child he loved. "Why did you want to be close to him, Loki?"

"Peter?"

"Yeah."

"The child…" he searched his mind for something genuine to say, "The child and I have a strange connection. Our magic separates us from other sentient beings. He has faced so much in his young life, and he felt the need to show me."

Steve's head nodded once, "He doesn't like to scare us. It scares him to see us afraid."

"Children are fickle creatures at the best of times; throw magic into the mix and they become all the more complex. Peter is one such creature that I have respect for," Loki's thin hand pressed against the door beside Steve's, his eyes steady as he turned his body slightly and fit himself next to the Captain, his lips parted slightly, "The prophecy spoke of a child that would cleanse the worlds of all their expectations, and I believe that Peter is that child. He has earned my respect for what he went through, just as you have."

Steve's head rose to that, enough for his blue eyes to stare into Loki's. The God smiled slightly in response.

"You mean that?"

"Well, I am the Liesmith, so that will have to placed in your faith," he began to walk to the elevator to his room, the topsy turvy world that was his slice of disorder on Earth, "And, being a believer of God, I would suspect you have quite solid fundamentals."


	64. Ice Cream

The lessons were long and tiring, but Tony was keeping their minds focused on the university. Peter listened to hour after hour of science lectures and forced himself to stay awake during demonstrations, many of which were just recaps of what they had done before, some being variations of projects they had previously worked on.

Steve, however, tried to keep a focus on sport when he wasn't in the lab, or at least some form of expressive activity in which his son could release his thoughts. He found that painting was one of the favoured exercises, though sometimes singing and writing won over it. He would also find peace when he nuzzled down in his uncle's side, who hadn't been present for a few days due to his overwhelming admiration of the Captain. There were many parks he had taken walks in over that time, many paintings he had admired and coffee shops he had found himself sitting in, admiring the people as they milled about their days.

"There's nothing wrong with the experiment," Tony was saying to his lover as they waltzed into the kitchen, where Loki had been writing one of his strange language letters. The God's ears pricked up for a moment.

"He's been doing experiments for days, Tony. Why not just go back to the textbook stuff?" the leader reached for a glass of water as they spoke, like they didn't even know that the Trickster was sitting there, "Pete's only little."

"And he'll only be able to sort all these experiments out in the next few months. There's a lot to get through!" his hand ruffled the blonde locks as though he were a child in need of comforting, before the billionaire turned on his heels and left the kitchen. Loki daren't look up when he heard the angered sigh from Steve, the glass clinking against the marble counters as he tried to control his breathing.

He couldn't resist commenting, though, "Peter does so enjoy his experiments." He didn't know why he was trying to defend Tony's decision or how he knew that his nephew did like experiments, granted he didn't question that knowledge. It was just good that he had it for that moment.

"I know," Steve's hands clasped against the leader's face whilst he tried to relax, reminding himself that Tony was only thinking in their child's best interests, "I know he likes them, but he's got to have a healthy balance. If he's constantly doing science, he'll never appreciate what's outside the lab. It'll scare him."

Those words rang truer to Loki than anything he had ever heard. He watched, mesmerised as Steve clasped his hands over the marble countertops, steadying himself so that he could focus on the main points of Tony's argument and try to work through it in his head. He was unaware of the God's stares until he turned back around, just enough to catch the fleeting eyes as they returned to their work.

"Loki," he looked up to see the soft expression on Rogers' face, that weak smile mixed with sadness.

"Rogers?"

"I've got to get Tony out of the lab for a few days, so he won't want Pete in there either. I'm going to ask you to do something for me and I need you to know if you really want to."

That made the God's eyes narrow in curiousity, his heart rate increasing as he stared at the oceanic blue depths that were Steve's irises, the courage that lay within them that remained hidden until battle. He felt a strange realisation; he wanted to make that smile appear a lot, so he would probably do whatever the soldier asked him to.

That didn't mean he wouldn't have fun with it, "Perhaps I would want to at the time you ask me. But I have been known to swap sides quite effortlessly, and with little thought."

"Well, I need you to be a hundred percent certain you won't do that this time," there was sincerity in his words.

"And why would that be, Rogers?"

"Because I want you to take Pete out for ice cream later so I can speak to Tony."

The God's writing stopped. His eyes flickered back up to meet Steve's, his heart stilled for a brief second as he tried to process the words in his head. Help? Help the Avengers look after their little one, without the supervision of the Tower around them? For a moment he thought it was a cruel trick, though the eyes told him differently.

"I would be delighted to." His words were more honest than he had intended. The idea of taking Peter out was strangely pleasing to him, the sort of thing that a father would do to their son if they were being on their best behaviour, or perhaps a lover would do to give their partners a rest. He wasn't sure how the latter option applied, but it did.

Steve's shoulders relaxed, "Thanks. He's usually really good outside, but you've just got to be careful of reporters. They'll take tonnes of pictures without your permission. We…we don't really want people to start recognising you." There was a quick nod of acceptance from Loki, an unspoken reassurance that he would protect their young son's privacy and keep them both well hidden. It earned another smile. "Thanks, Loki. Tony's going to be easy to get around when I talk to him, but Pete can be a bit of a handful after sugar. Think you can handle it?"

"I brought the Chitauri to New York, did I not? I think I can deal with my own nephew."

"Okay then," another smile, "But he's a bit more complicated than a Chitauri invasion. He's more like…a physics class wrapped up in Algebraic equations. Only Tony can solve him."

Loki resisted the urge to say something scathing, since he knew that Tony would most often fail with his young son, "I will be sure to keep that in mind."


	65. Dreams of Loki

Loki dreamt that night. It had been a while since he dreamed something; he recalled the last one to be before he had fallen into the void, and it wasn't pleasant. The differences between that one and the one he was experiencing were all too obvious.

Peter sat in his arms in the new dream, with his perfect smile a slash on his face and his hands busy with some sort of metal object. He chose not to question it, instead relishing the small body that sat so tightly against his, the smiling little boy that he had travelled worlds to stay with.

"He's been playing with that for hours," Loki looked up to see the deep blue eyes of Steve in front of him, lying on what looked to be grass as the world materialised around them. It was a beautiful land of picnickers, swing-sets and monkey bars, the children on them like animals that were let loose in a library as parents looked on, their laughter louder than anything Loki had ever heard. It was all so serene.

"What is it?" his question was met by a shrug whilst Steve's face pouted for a moment, before it fell into laughter that made him half-lid his eyes. Instantly, the Gods breath caught. He didn't know why, but it made him want to keep a happy smile whenever he saw it.

"Pete," the soldier propped himself up on his elbow as he spoke to his boy, who looked up with his big innocent eyes, "Why don't you go and play with the other kids? We brought you here to play." Instantly the child abandoned his toys, off to go and fulfil his father's wishes without a second thought for his device, how he was trying to unlock its millions of secrets in the space of one afternoon. It would have to wait until he had more free time.

There was a sense of loss for the God as he watched Peter walk away, felt the cold hit where his warm body had once been, but it vanished when a hand clasped over his. He looked confused at the soldier in front of him, his smile warm and soft despite the closeness of their contact.

"He'll be alright. Kid's aren't going to hurt him," he said softly.

The response fell out of his mouth without him even thinking of it, "I know, Rogers, but they worry me so. Peter is such a…sensitive little one."

"Stop calling me Rogers," another perfect smile, "You know I hate it when you call me that. It sounds business-like. We're not business."

"I know that, but it is such fun to aggravate you."

There was a moment of silence between them as Steve nodded his head, eyes closed so that Loki couldn't look at the ocean blue depths and his expression vacant, so he couldn't quite determine what he was feeling. The God took the opportunity to glance at Peter, who was busying himself with one of the more common children and trying to associate his studies with the outside world. Namely, he was trying to build an appropriate catapult.

Suddenly, there were lips on his knuckles. He looked down to see Steve kissing them, so softly that it seemed as though he had done it before, and Loki was immobilised. He pulled the hand away after what seemed like an age, gripping it in the other before he locked his green gaze onto Steve.

"What's wrong?" the soldier asked as though what they were doing was normal, even expected. It was all his counterpart could do to choke out a laugh and his reply.

"You kissed my hand. I think that is cause for my surprise."

"You don't seem to mind when I kiss it the other times, or when I get your lips," to demonstrate, his pressed his lips against Loki's and brought another smile to his face, those half-lidded eyes staring at him so softly.

"What're we all talking about?" he looked up to see Tony enter the scene, his arms laden with some sort of basket and his suit slightly rumpled, as though he had been in a skirmish before he came to them. He looked first at Steve, kissing him softly on the cheek, before he did the same to Loki and was rewarded by another shocked gasp, which made him raise an eyebrow, "What's up?"

"What is going-"

He awoke suddenly in his bed, floating off the floor and rattling so closely to the walls that it was a surprise his paintings hadn't fallen. Light streamed through his windows as it collapsed back to the ground, his gaze wild so that he could confirm it had all been a dream. What a strange nightmare to have…but it wasn't a nightmare. A nightmare would suggest he had been afraid of it. No – he had simply been surprised by the happenings, though it was a pleasant sort of surprise. Rather like a birthday party for a child.

There was a knock that pulled him from his thoughts, "Hey Loki, it's Steve. I was wondering if you could take Pete out today? He's being a bit restless and I wanted to get Tony-"

"I shall be ready in a few moments!" he rose from his bed, trying to shake off the last of his dream, "Ensure that Peter is prepared and I shan't be a moment!" Steve noticed the change in his voice but he didn't question it, sure that sleep was just doing something to him and the God was trying to break through it.

"Okay. We'll be waiting downstairs."

"Excellent!" Loki waited until he heard the footsteps going away, turning to the room around him as various objects floated around him, not paying attention to them as he tried to make sense of the situation. Why had he dreamt of the soldier? Why had that dream included Tony in all his formal glory?

Questions that would play on his mind, he was sure.


	66. Shop

"Little one," Loki cooed over the ice cream shop table, Peter's mouth covered in a strange ice cream that was named 'Ferro Roche.' The childish smile under all that muck was heart-warming, something that the God wanted to frame and keep as a special memento in his room, though he wouldn't admit to it if someone asked.

"Uncle Loki okay?" the boy had noticed the glances his uncle passed when he had looked at his fathers that morning, like there was something he wanted to tell them but didn't quite know how to put it. His eyes glimmered as he brushed past Steve's shoulder, dulling only when he turned to Tony and allowed them to become curious once more.

"I am quite well, Peter. You are concerned for me?" his voice was met by a soft smile whilst he spoke, as though he were doubtful that someone could actually care how he felt. Peter responded by placing a firm hand on his uncle's, his eyes gentle as he looked up at him and a smile dancing on his lips. "It is nothing, I assure you. Simply a dream."

"Dreams hurt. I dream. I dream far away."

"Your dreams are filled with memories, so I would be concerned if they were happy. You shall forget in time, little one," a warm hand ruffled Peter's locks whilst eyes stayed glued to them, some because they had recognised the famed Stark-Rogers, others because they thought the man with him was awfully familiar. Loki was careful to make sure none of those pesky reporters had followed them.

The child pushed his colourful bowl of ice cream to his uncle, a warm smile on his face that was still covered by the beige muck, and passed the plastic spoon towards him in his soft little fingers. Loki took a cautious bit, sort of a token gesture, but once he had tasted it he ordered himself a bowl and kept his gaze locked on the child, wondering how he could have acted so casually about something so delicious.

That was when a flash went off. Peter looked wildly to his left, his little voice shrill when he noticed the plain-clothed reporter that lingered outside of the shop, camera aimed right for his face and the uncle who had his back turned. Upon hearing the shriek Loki span round, powers at the ready as he saw Peter dive to hide himself and the reporter coming closer to the window.

"I do so detest interruptions," he sighed to himself before a wisp of green erupted from his hand, turning the reporter's camera on himself and causing him to become momentarily blinded. Screams echoed around the shop as he snatched up his nephew, who was mewling his name softly in a way of comfort.

They were out in the streets before anyone from the shop was. Without thinking, Loki took a path down the alleyway to where there were no people; a small little market place that must have been abandoned, or at least forgotten about in its obviously long existence. He kept his nephew close to his chest as they walked, aware that eyes were on him from the rundown apartment buildings and the darkened corners of the alleyways.

"Hey," he turned to be confronted with a shabbily dressed man, a bandana on his head and a crazed look in his eyes, "What'cha doing here, pricey? You think it's safe here? And look – you brought a kid with ya too!" he took a threatening step towards the pair as he spoke and brought a gun up to them, something that Loki had forced himself to study in his brief time in Asgardian jail. It seemed that the knowledge did come in handy.

The sigh that passed his lips was deep, "And I had hoped that today would be simple."


	67. News

"His face is all over the news," Fury was saying as he flicked through the television channels, each one portraying Loki and Peter running from the shop in a different light, each one giving an alternate theory as to why the young Avenger would be with their number one enemy.

There was silence from the awaiting men, eyes locked onto the wide screen whilst they tried to make sense of the situation. Sure, the God had been caught with their son. That much was certain. But he definitely wasn't using him for taking over the world, especially not with their base of operations being in an ice cream shop just off the main street.

"We'll have to deal with this," Steve sighed, sitting in one of the black armchairs and letting his face fall into his hands, "We'll have to call a press conference and tell everyone Loki's not a threat. Tell everyone that Pete's got to have his privacy. Work, work, work, work."

Tony smiled at his lover as he spoke, because he was thinking precisely the same thing. A press conference that would cover all of the basics from start to finish, as well as diving into more detail about Loki and their peculiar arrangement. If only people were easier to convince; it would have been an excellent idea otherwise.

"There's plenty we can do instead. We can tell people they're crazy, that Loki's still on Asgard in prison."

"Photographic evidence, Tony," Fury pointed out before flicking to another channel, his feet propped up comfortably on the glass table in front of him and a weary gaze in his good eye, "They're never going to buy that Loki's off Earth, not with this floating on the news. Speaking of which, where are they?"

As if on cue, the God and his little nephew walked into the living room, Peter's trembling face hidden in his shoulder as Loki looked at the men in front of him. Their faces were almost tired when he took each one into account – if he didn't know any better, he'd say that they knew what he had done to that brute in the marketplace.

"Yes?"

Steve was the first to speak, with Tony quickly taking young Peter and checking him over for any wounds, "Where were you two?" Loki carefully tucked his nephew's hair behind his ear before replying, and even then his face was a blank stare.

"We were simply enjoying the city sights. I took young Peter on a small walk, nothing more."

"And the reporter?" the soldier was near his face then, with that overwhelmingly blue gaze staring at him and those arms crossed over his chest, "What happened to the reporter?"

"Nothing that he did not deserve," he replied, glinting eyes faced to the Captain, "He interrupted our day and scared Peter. I was sure that he did not do it again. I have not killed him, mind; he shall walk again and live to see another day, yet not to disturb our days out. I am quite sure he will not do that for a long while." As he spoke the Trickster turned, his legs stretched so that he could take his leave and not have to answer such inane questions. He had protected Peter, right? So why were they acting as if he were in the wrong?

He felt a firm hand grab his wrist, "Hey, don't go. We're not angry at you."

The green gaze turned back with a question in it, like he couldn't understand how the leader was actually grateful for what Loki had done. Tony, who had been busying himself with patting down his son's hair and making sure that he was unhurt, turned to face the God as well, his eyes filled with a sense of gratitude that seemed unheard of for the billionaire.

"You got rid of a reporter. They're the banes of our lives, especially little Pete's," Tony nuzzled the side of the child's head, earning a smile from him, "We couldn't be mad at you for warning one off. Might make the rest of them stay away, too." There was a hint of mirth in the billionaire's face as he smiled at the God, as though he was actually trying to comprehend the strange situation he found himself in. Him, feeling indebted to Loki? It was turning out to be a weird day.

Loki managed a tight-lipped smile in response, "I am glad to have been of service. Now, if you excuse me, there is a certain scroll in my room that I must read." Before he could vanish, he felt the grip around his wrist tighten and squeeze him back into the room, those blue eyes on his like they were trying to search him.

"We need to talk about the setup around here. Loki, I want you to be at dinner with me and Tony tonight, on our floor. Bruce, you don't mind keeping an eye on Pete tonight, do you?" he turned to the half-man half-monster that sat in the armchair, nursing a glass of wine that he had poured on a whim. Without looking up Bruce nodded, content to spend an evening with his nephew as he had done so often before, certain that they could find some way to entertain themselves. He did have a chessboard somewhere…

"There is no need – I was simply going to take supper to my-"

"Well, Slim, you've got plans now," Tony handed his son to the man beside him, that smile still broad on his bearded face before he planted a kiss on Steve's nose. The God's mind stuttered for a moment when he thought about his dream, though he forced it away from his mind so he could keep it focused.

Dinner. Dinner with Steve and Tony, two men that he had tried to kill at one point. He didn't know whether the situation was joyful or laughable. Both, he decided.

"Very well," he eventually sighed, "I shall be present at supper. Until then." And with that, he vanished from the room.


	68. The Judgements

Dinner wasn't a formal occasion for the Avengers, though the scene around them felt formal. Loki wondered if he should have dressed in more than a pair of jeans and a loaned black shirt, his reading glasses propped on his nose from where he had been engaging with a scroll, granted the men in front of him were suitably casual.

Steve simply wore a white polo shirt that he had bought some weeks ago, completed by a set of blue jeans that were outrageously similar to Stark's, the only difference being his AC/DC top and the leather jacket he had walked in with. There was a brief glance to the expertly prepared chicken dinner in front of him but, with his mind so curious as to what they would be talking about, Loki didn't start eating.

"Not hungry?" the billionaire asked with his fork full of potato, a smile on his bearded face when he spoke, "Have you eaten at all today? I haven't seen you in the kitchen."

"I have been quite curious as to why you have called me here. Surely any discussions on our arrangement should involve all parties, not just a select few?" he didn't want to admit to Tony that he had been too nervous to show himself again, what with the constant memory of his dream raging in his head. Steve noticed the glimmer in his green eyes, though he said nothing.

"Pete's really starting to enjoy having you around. It's weird to see him get so excited for a day out; usually, he's nervous."

"Why would the little one be nervous? He is far stronger than the mortals of this realm."

The super soldier interjected before his lover could answer, "He's not the sort to use his powers on people, innocent people. There's always the worry that reporters will find him and start to take pictures; the cameras scare him." A soft, hurt sparkle danced in Steve's eyes as he thought about the many newspapers they had come into contact with, all vying for just a glimpse of their son and trying to bring their private life out in the open. It wasn't like that in his day.

"There was a reporter during our travels," Loki noted as he picked respectfully at the food, the savoury smells of which were slowly encircling him and lulling him into a state of calm, rather like a child when it wandered into its mother's kitchen, "He was able to take photographs of the little one. I apologise."

Steve couldn't help smile at the apology. It was a rare thing to see someone with such humility, and a nice change from the usual hard-headedness of his billionaire lover. Tony's own mouth curved at the corners, threatening a smile, but never quite allowing it to spill out of his goatee. His hands twitched over his food whilst his eyes remained locked on Loki, watching his movements as though he were a specimen in need of studying.

"No need to apologise. It's pretty much a sure thing that someone's going to take a picture. Sometimes it's reporters, other times it's people. He's a bit of spectacle for some."

Tony's smile broadened, "Of course he is – he's a Stark-Rogers. Not many people can put that on their resume, can they?" his grin was met by a soft little look from his boyfriend, that same one that told him what he felt and why he felt it in the space of three seconds, before they turned their attention back to Loki. The God was rocking slightly on his chair with his back pressed tightly to it, his eyes never wavering from the men's faces, his mind never leaving that dream and the serenity of the park.

But, soon enough, he felt the need to know why he was called, "And for what reason do you have to discuss our arrangement? I'm sure it is far more than Peter's fondness of me."

"Well, now the media's got wind of your being here. It's going to be a lot of trouble for us to convince everyone that you're on our side now. I mean…a _lot_ of convincing is going to be involved," Steve's innocent blue eyes flickered on Loki's face for a moment.

"You wish me to leave?"

"No. That'd upset Pete. And, to be honest, we've sort of got used to you being around. No, we don't want you to leave."

"Then what must I do to convince the mortals? Should I walk behind you in irons?" a golden light flourished around his wrists, transforming the air into some sort of strange Asgardian handcuffs and forcing the God to sigh at them, "Should I show them that I am otherwise incapacitated?"

Tony couldn't resist touching the cuffs, and was surprised to find that they were as solid as they looked. He thought Loki's magic had been an illusion – it seemed that there was a lot to be learned from the God of mischief.

"That's not necessary. They'll have to accept that we trust you; after what we've done for them, I'm sure they'd understand." Ah, Steve and his naivety. It still made his lover smile on the odd occasion, even after so long that he had heard and nurtured it.

"You are certain that the people shall be passive?"

"Oh, they're going to be pissed. But we've just got to deal with that when it comes to us," Tony sipped on his drink with a smile on his face, watching as the handcuffs practically melted into the table, "We don't want them to be able to dictate our lives. Thor trusts that you've changed. Pete trusts you. Even Clint's starting to get used to having you around, and that's a massive step for Bird Boy. Who are we to hinder progress?"

And that was when Loki let one of his rare, genuine smiles creep on his face. The thought that men he had tried to kill – two men both set on the path of righteousness – wanted to protect him made him smile, like he did when he was young and would play games with Thor.

"I shall trust your judgement," he said, giving them a meaningful look, "For now."


	69. Conference

Peter nuzzled playfully into his father's side at one of those boring press conferences. Camera lights flashed as Tony stared out defensively, a hand over his son's face and a growl emanating from his throat, warning off everyone that was trying to take a rare snapshot of the boy in his finest tailored suit. Steve, as normal, had taken the helm at the podium and was trying to work through his speech, though it was becoming quite difficult with the reporters shouting out questions and trying to get away from the topic.

"Our family life isn't to be discussed in this meeting," he said hotly for the umpteenth time, knowing that it wouldn't settle their raucous appetites, "Peter's privacy is our utmost concern. We're taking a zero tolerance attitude for anyone taking pictures of our son, whether they are for magazine, newspaper or any other form of media purpose." That earned him a deep sigh from the front row who instantly sheathed their cameras, granted the people at the back weren't as gracious.

Steve looked helplessly at his boyfriend. He was wearing that army uniform in substitution for his Captain America one, hopeful that it would take some of the heat off of their superhero status and let them focus on the important matters. Tony had said he was naïve.

But the billionaire wouldn't let his words be unheard. With ease he jumped from his seat, careful to keep his son's face covered as he placed him firmly on his hip and took his place beside the soldier, jaw set whilst his eyes raked across the chairs in front of them.

"That means switch the damn cameras off!" he barked, which instantly was awarded a hushed silence. He gently pressed his lips to his boyfriend's cheek, whispering to the blushing man, "Take it away." before he took his seat again, Peter still nuzzled tightly to his shoulder.

He detested press conferences. It wasn't like at Stark Expo where the venue was grand and well decorated – it was a simple grey room, packed with warm bodies and annoying reporters, each one with a crazy question to be asked that didn't strictly have any to do with the topic.

"The first concern we brought today was my son's privacy and rights," the soldier started again as the hush continued, the only sound being the gentle whir of the filming equipment. It wasn't new for Steve to look at his face on reports, but he didn't quite like it.

A hand rose, "What about Loki? Is he really on Earth?" a worried glance was passed between the men as they took a deep breath, aware that their argument sounded both ridiculous and ill-placed.

"Yes," cries of panic sounded, "But we've reason to believe that Loki is seeking peace. We're putting him under strict, round-the-clock surveillance-"

"How can you say that?!"

"Don't you remember what he did?"

"Has the world gone insane?!"

Peter didn't understand what the fuss was about. True, he hadn't been present during the Chitauri invasion, but he was sure that everything was being blown out of proportion and they were crying about nothing. Loki was trying so hard to be different…

Steve waited for the initial screams to die down before he tried again, so valiantly struggling through the poorly written notes Fury had given him, "Loki has attempted to better himself through therapeutic means, including meditation and constant supervision. The Avengers are taking his care personally, and we expect to be allowed to go about this without too much interference. Obviously we'll-"

"What do you have to say about recent sightings of Loki with Peter?" the question came from a bright-eyed blonde girl in the front, donned with pretty pink nails and cherry red lips. Tony made a mental note to search for her name in the registers; he was sure that she had once been a Go-Go girl by the name of Rose, though his memory could have been failing him.

Steve found himself slightly flustered, "Er…we're currently trying something…"

"You're perfectly fine with placing your own son in the hands of a convicted killer?"

"Loki's…we're…Peter feels…"

"Isn't it your job to protect not only the city, but your child? Isn't Peter deserving of a stable environment in which he can work and flourish?" Convenient that they had forgotten that same child was an Avenger, a decision that they had readily accepted as progress to the future and suitable in light of their protection, "I don't think that you're the excellent fathers that you keep assuring us you are."

That was when Tony calmly put his son on one of the hard metal chairs, walked up beside his boyfriend, cleared his throat as he stared down into the crowd around them and – calmly, mind – bellowed into the microphone. It earned a quick silence from the woman that was talking. It was also met with a stunned hush from the people who had been agreeing with her, in addition to grins from the people that didn't.

"Peter's protection is our concern and no one else's," Steve's eyes glimmered with love as he watched his boyfriend, "Loki has been closely watched and, when in the company of Peter, made sure to be in the right frame of mind. We've been careful. We aren't going to listen to people who wanted us to put our son on the front line just so they felt better. Loki's shown more concern for him in the space of a few months than you people have since he came to the Tower." True words. They were so true that everyone looked at each other accusingly, determined not to be the ones in the wrong.

Peter giggled nervously as he clapped his hands together – he didn't like it when people went quiet and found them quite receptive to his charms, so he used them whenever he was in that predicament. They smiled at him, that warm smile that people gave to babies.

"Uncle Loki! Uncle Loki love Peter!" he insisted when his fathers turned to him, "Peter love Uncle Loki! Strong together! Strong in Tower!" that was when Tony gave his triumphant smile to Steve before picking the boy up, patting his ruffled hair back into a suitable position.

"Why don't we go get you something to eat, bucko?" he purred.


	70. Watching

"Vultures," Steve sighed as a few reporters passed them, 'discreetly' taking pictures on their mobile phones, "The lot of them. All vultures."

"Now Cap, that's no way to talk about the good American populace, is it?" his lover teased whilst feeding their son another chip, his eyes partially hidden by his sunglasses and a soft smile on his face. It was great foresight that they picked a place near a burger stand – little Peter grinned through his mouthfuls of ketchup at the reporters, no longer caring if they got pictures of him. He had food, after all.

"I've had enough of the media, not normal citizens," the soldier reminded him with a wave of his napkin, which was actually used to wipe ketchup from Peter's chin, "Normal citizens don't care about what goes on in our private life."

"Not true, Cap; if people didn't care about it, it wouldn't get reported. One of the little facts of the world," he paused momentarily to bite into his burger, and sighed inwardly as the mustard fell from the back and landed dangerously close to his suit leg. He watched a smug smile fall over his son's face before he offered him a napkin, as if to say 'look who's getting all dirty.'

Steve was waving off a nosy woman when he replied, "Don't tell me that. It's making me lose hope for the future." A smile flickered on Tony's face. He had the perfect way to make the good Captain smile again, and all it took was a wave to their little boy.

"He's the future Steve, so hope's restored," he muttered through a mouthful of fried meat. Peter, who had been deeply engrossed in arranging his chips and performing certain equations with them, looked up with those big innocent eyes, directed straight at his father as a curvy smile fell on his face. It made the blonde super soldier want to smile himself, and he did so with pride blooming in his chest.

"How are people going to react?" he asked with his head in his hands, elbows on the table and careful not to land in the ketchup, "About Loki. It's…it's a bit of a struggle trying to get a word in edgeways."

"You've got to go in there again and get people to see he's not a threat. At least, not anymore," another smile to their playful pup, "It's necessary for him to stay here; it means something to everyone, especially Pete. Thor won't be happy if we screw this up."

"We should've let him come here."

"What, and tell them all that Asgard failed to properly punish his brother? Yeah – that'll instil faith that Loki's on the straight and narrow. Hang on, just let me release Charles Mason and tell everyone he wants to start selling relationship advice."

When he was met by a blank stare from Steve, he simply sighed before trying to censor the explanation. Sometimes it was a struggle for the soldier to understand, especially when all of the references were so new and modern to him, so out of reach despite his practical charge into the higher society. That didn't make it less frustrating for his up-to-date lover.

High in the sky where the birds circled, there was a familiarly black raven dancing with the clouds. It didn't squawk or allow raucous cries to fill the air but, rather, kept its huge wings outstretched to blot out the sun, its turns and spins as calm as the soft breeze that caressed Peter's hair into wild directions, the child oblivious to the watchful green gaze. Loki had fretted that human's angry nature would get the best of them and his nephew would be in danger, so he had been careful to cleverly disguise himself when he followed. Not even Tony noticed whilst the bird stayed strangely close to them, and the billionaire was usually on top of things.

The God knew that he was risking a lot. He knew that, should anyone spot the dangerous raven and notice how pre-determined its course seemed, it could mean that he would be spotted. It might even mean that he would be chased away. But that didn't matter when he could keep his eyes on the boy and his fathers, both calm under the watchful gaze of the reporters.

Again he noted how Steve's army uniform seemed so grand on him, when there were many others who wore it and still lacked that certain…something. Peter looked adoringly at his father, pride sparkling in his eyes as he touched the shining gold medals and muttered something that Loki couldn't hear, but the soldier just smiled and patted his head. It must have been a message of admiration in Peter's strained English. The thought made his beak twitch.

"Oh look," Tony said in deadpanned enthusiasm, "More reporters, more cameras. How fun. Think we can just sneak off without them noticing?" the pained look from his boyfriend told him that was all he wanted to do but, alas, their duties made certain that they stayed there, in the unwanted limelight that only came with being a superhero.

Peter waved at them when the cameras turned, "Daddy, screen! Screen!" he had seen his father grapple with the media many times, and he felt that it was his turn to take some of the pressure off.

"No Pete – not today," the billionaire pulled his son's hand down and caressed the back with his thumb, gentle despite the urgency of his words, "We've got to argue with these people today. They don't want Uncle Loki to stay with us anymore. We're going to make sure they don't make it difficult for him to, okay?" he was replied by a quick nod and an adorable scowl from the child, like he thought that his teddy bear-like look could actually warn the people off. In truth, it only made them sigh and take extra footage of him. It was rare that they got any, after all.

Loki watched as the men began to clear away their food and take weary steps towards the ugly grey building, not even decorated by a playful banner. It must have been awfully boring for his nephew. So he found it only logical that he disappeared behind a tree and transformed into a little squirrel, soft furred and twitching as though he were really a mindless beast. That would perk his little nephew up.

After all, it was the least he could do.


	71. Squirreling

If only people could see the world through Peter's eyes. When he sat in those bland grey chairs, cold metal biting into his warm wrists, he felt like there wasn't any room for his childish views on things. It was like the world was going to Hell right before him, and he couldn't do anything about it.

Steve was stuttering through question after question from the reporters, who were becoming more ravenous with each one he answered. The answers poured out of his mouth as uncensored as Tony's comebacks; he tried desperately to keep things hidden but it just wasn't working. Peter watched his father closely, intrigued at the little beads of sweat that rolled down his forehead and landed on the polished podium, decorated by the proud Bald Eagle and a mechanical microphone that stood obtrusively in Steve's face.

Then there was a thud in his lap. He looked down to see a strange black squirrel twitching on him, dirtying his suit with little scraps of mud it'd picked up and laying a peace offering on his right knee – an acorn, perhaps one it intended to bury at some point. With a childish smile he stroked the creature, his voice giddy as he tried to capture his father's attention.

"Not now bucko," Tony muttered whilst his eyes never wavered from Steve. If only he were allowed to talk, then the media might get what they deserved…

Peter started to play with the lively little mammal, intent to take his mind away from the shouting of the people around him and finally pay attention to something more interesting. The piercing green eyes seemed familiar somehow…like he had seen it before, far off in a dream.

"We're pretty much closing in on the point we've been trying to make," Steve sighed after yet another reworded question was thrown at him, strangely by the same people, "Peter's in extremely capable hands. We're careful not to allow anything to happen to him, no matter what the circumstances might be." It was true – even Loki respected the way in which the team protected him, careful to make sure that he was safe before all others, though it often meant that they were putting their own lives on the line. Such was the price for love…

A smile flickered on Tony's face as he watched his lover stumble over the questioning. He was adorable in his old-fashioned ways; always thinking the best of people, no matter how much they proved him wrong. The only time he thought they were evil was when they had a gun to his face and, since that didn't happen very often, it wasn't a lasting thing.

"Daddy," he looked down to see the critter on Peter's lap, his smile broadening out of surprise, "Play!" there was nothing he wanted to do more than take his son out and have a game with the squirrel, but they had work to do. That didn't mean he was going to take it away from him.

So he whispered very quietly, only loud enough for the front row to hear, "You can play with it, but make sure it doesn't run off. And if it bites, you tell me. Got it?" he received a nod of confirmation before the boy turned back to his toy, the living being that sat so happily in his lap and allowed him to stroke its fur.

Camera flashes went off the capture the moment. Peter didn't care, not that it mattered either way. He was too engrossed with the creature to worry about what the reporters were saying, what story they were cooking up behind his love of all things fluffy. The thick, curled tail twitched underneath his soft fingertips, causing a giggle to escape the boy and momentarily distract his soldier father.

"What's he got?" he whispered to the silent agent beside him, who just shrugged because she hadn't been paying attention. Upon a glance behind his papers, a smile flickered to his face. What a cute squirrel! If unusual, what with its black fur and glittering green eyes. Where had he seen those eyes before?

It didn't take too long for the reporters to snatch his attentions back, "Captain!"

"Yes?" he sighed wearily.

"Don't you think that Loki's presence in New York will just worsen already strenuous ties with several other countries?"

Oh, how Steve hated politics. He had become a soldier to fight for his country, not get involved with running it. Maybe in a simpler time they would be one of the same, with the government being more violent than the whole of the armed forces, but it seemed that things were becoming unnecessarily complicated.

"Ah yes…" he shuffled his papers again, "About foreign politics."


	72. Riding Home

In the limousine, Steve let his face fall into his hands. A shaky breath flew past his lips as he thought to himself about the press conference, how he had stumbled over most of his answers and how he hadn't managed to convince everyone Loki wasn't a threat. It was going to be hard sailing from there.

"Did you really need to change into a squirrel? Wouldn't a pen be less suspicious?" Tony was saying to the human form of Loki, who was sat beside Peter as a smile played on his lips. The foolish billionaire; didn't he understand the subtle rules of his magic?

"What fun would the little one have with a pen? A furry creature is much more entertaining," he purred in reply. Glancing at Steve, he realised how much effort was going into keeping him on earth, what with everyone so determined that he was a menace and would only bring chaos to them. That may have been on his agenda once, but no longer. He had grown past the petty squabbles of ownership. Though he wouldn't mind having the throne of Asgard…

Peter nuzzled into his side, which effectively pulled him from his thoughts of the crown. He watched whilst the little boy played with his shirt's buttons, his mind elsewhere as he stared at his father's weary face and the way he seemed to look so…defeated. It was rare that Peter ever saw him like that. When it did happen, he was careful to think about every single detail.

"Hey, this's one conference. They were being vicious today. It'll be much better the next time around," the billionaire soothed as he rubbed a comforting hand up his lover's arm, like he didn't think he should be so hard on himself. After all they had dealt with the press a lot, what with their snapping features and grabbing personalities, Hell bent on taking everything without leaving something behind. It wasn't nice to think about his beloved going up against them. Sometimes, it made him shudder more than the Nazis.

Steve gave him a grateful albeit weak smile, "I know, Tony. It's just…Loki's counting on us," he turned his smile to the God, letting his hands fall to his knees before he continued, "And Pete's counting on us, too. It's hard to know that I've screwed this one up."

"You haven't. You're the toast of America; give it a few edits, maybe some touch-ups, and you'll look as respectful as they want the world to think we are. All your strong answers will be up there."

"Yeah, but the only strong answers were the ones that weren't answering anything."

"Details, details," another grin stretched across the tycoon's face as he placed a gentle kiss against his nose, taking his right hand almost as softly as a child handling their dolls. It made Loki think in depth about their relationship – Tony acted as though Steve were weak, breakable, but there was a lot of evidence to say otherwise. He had watched footage of the Captain's conquests and how he effortlessly handled the team, with all of that charm that seemed to come from many worlds away.

He had watched that footage for research purposes, of course.

"Perhaps it would be simpler if I found another form to immerse myself in?" he suggested much more softly than he had intended, "I'm certain that-"

"Not an option," and the soldier came flying back out of Steve, his hand presented with his palm facing Loki, his face down so he was staring at the knee of his lover, "We've got a system in the Tower and it's not going to be interrupted. What we do for ourselves isn't the concern of citizens."

Tony bit back a response because, technically, everything they did was the concern of citizens. They were heroes after all; if it was a celebrity status, it meant that people had an instant right to know what went on in their life. Ah, the subtleties of modern society…

But Loki managed to let a small smile fall to his face. He had never felt grateful to someone, not since he was a naïve little boy playing with Thor and allowed to use magic, but he felt a sudden urge to do something he hadn't done in a long time. He felt the urge to shake the good Captain's hand.

He didn't, of course. That would have meant Peter would have needed to move, and that was far from what he wanted to do. So he simply settled for a smile and a curt, "Thank you, Steve."


	73. Development

Tony rarely admitted he was wrong. To Steve he did, normally after an argument or one of their insane trademark ideas, but the team didn't hear it for months at a time. So as he leaned against his laboratory chair, heels of his hands sunk deeply into his eyes and an exasperated groan in his voice, Bruce knew he was going to hear a rare 'I was wrong.'

"What happened this time?" he asked, assuming that something had occurred with Loki and they were going to suffer the vengeful pranks. Tony looked up to stare into his eyes, his own tired like he had been awake for hours.

"Pete's last set of tests," the admission was quiet, guarded, "I just checked them. I checked their development."

"And what's wrong with them? We concluded that they weren't developing at a dangerous rate last week," the scientist replied. He was confused; they had been so certain that the numbers were right, so cautious to add up and divide and subtract according to the statistics, intent on never making a stupid mistake that might skew their view.

"They're not."

"Then what's the problem?" he brought the piping hot cup of herbal tea to his face when he spoke, though his eyes never wavered from his friend's tired features. It was a wonder that Tony wasn't dead with the sleep to work ratio he kept; Bruce recalled that Steve had tried to fix that but, so far, it hadn't worked out very well.

A look of pure defeat crept along Tony's face. Another groan rang from his throat as he fell back in the chair again, his faded t-shirt smelling faintly of stale sweat and Chinese food, his blue jeans stained by ink and whatever else the billionaire had come into contact with.

Bruce was patient and so he waited for a moment, but only for a moment, "What is it? Does Pete have more tests coming up to confirm what we found? Because I think that's a little unnecessary; they're probably a bit off with Loki being around and-"

"His powers developed again."

That earned a stunned silence from the dark haired researcher beside him. He dropped his tea, eyes wide and uncaring of the way his cup smashed on the floor, noting subconsciously not to put his feet down whilst his fixed the billionaire with a shocked gaze.

"What?"

"His powers developed again. It happened last night," there was a quick gesture made towards his pen, which instantly went to work on a scrap piece of paper strewn carelessly amongst the flasks, "I was putting him to bed."

Bruce regained his composure long enough to choke out, "What happened?"

"We'd just stopped reading Room on the Broom when he turned to me about that monster at the end – y'know; the big totem that the animals make? – anyway, I told him that it wasn't real, and that he didn't have to worry because Steve was in the gym on the floor under him."

"Just sounds like a typical night," he commented because he knew there was more, but he wanted to hold on to the small scrap of normalcy they still had. Development meant progress. Progress meant independency. And Peter wasn't ready to be independent, not yet, not when the team still had so much love for him and needed him to need them too…

Tony gave him a mournful glance, "He started giggling and his eyes did that thing again. Before I knew it, he'd made a little duplicate of Steve right there. It wasn't him, thank God, but it looked so…so _real _for a minute. Then it just went really transparent and disappeared."

His scribbles were a crude representation of what he saw, with Peter and Steve being depicted as stickmen and his own person sporting wide eyes, a few drops of sweat wild in black ink. It was comical that a forty year old man would draw something so immature, yet Bruce couldn't find the strength to comment on it. Development…

"His last development was only two months ago," he noted in a quiet voice, "This's…this's way too quick for us to make a proper test. We can't use the resources like that without clearing it first."

There was resignation in Tony's voice as he agreed, his feet propped up against the pristine white desk so he could rock back in his chair. Bruce resisted the urge to tell him to stop, since the situation would make that extremely inappropriate.

Silence reigned supreme. Each man could practically feel the cogs turning in the other's head, working to find a solution to their problem, battling against the instinctual need to run to their little Peter and tell him to stop using his powers. They couldn't watch him almost grow up before them. They knew his immortality would stop him ageing but it wouldn't stop his growing, his becoming a fully functioning person with their own way in the world.

"We'll have to ask Steve what he thinks is best," the billionaire sighed after what seemed like an age of quiet, "I was wrong. I thought he'd…I thought his powers would stop developing for a while. The stress of Loki's integration and the reporters we've had snooping around lately – it was meant to keep everything…slow."

Again there was that hint of desperation, that hint of need to keep his son from growing up. Tony wanted to stay on the pedestal Peter put on him, the boy's requirements met only by his father with no risk of becoming more advanced than him and, eventually, needing him less and less.

Bruce couldn't help but comfort him, "He'll be okay. It's just an anomaly, maybe. Wait…" an idea sprang up in his head, so obvious that he actually cursed himself for not immediately thinking it, "Loki's a Trickster, right?"

"Steve doesn't like us calling him that," he glanced about to make sure the soldier wasn't behind them, whispering under his breath, "He's got weird skills to find out if you have."

"He makes duplicates of himself, yeah?" Bruce pressed valiantly.

"He does; Thor told us that…hang on a minute, I get where you're going with this!" a wonderful smile stretched across his face, "It's just a magic trick! An illusion!"

"We can't be sure, but I'm willing to bet that Loki's taught him a few things. What with all the time they spend together, it's bound to happen."

A solution that meant Peter wasn't growing up; it was perfect, and just the thing Tony needed to here. He jumped with a renewed vigour as he ran to the door, eager to tell his super soldier boyfriend that their child had a long way to go before he grew up, which would probably mean that he'd have to explain the situation.

But Bruce made a note on the side of that scrap of paper – **prepare for extensive testing**.


	74. Magic

Loki carefully pressed Peter's hand to his, allowing the golden glow around them to blare as he flashed a smile towards him. The beautiful energy that connected them was suddenly dancing all around, evident to even the blindest of men, real and tangible in a world that was not.

"This will ensure that I am forever with you, even if I am light-years away," the God purred softly whilst his nephew inspected their hands, "All you will need to do is call my name, and I shall hear it."

Peter let a smile fall to his face before he collapsed onto his uncle, allowing the skinny arms to envelope him as Loki placed gentle kisses to his head. They had formed a friendship that could never be broken; they needed each other almost as much as they needed water and air, crucial to their survival even if they had a family around them. Peter loved Loki. Loki loved Peter. It was as simple as that.

"Loki," the God looked up when the playroom door opened, Steve's bulky form behind it with a weak smile on his face, "Tony wants to talk to you. Hey, little man." He flashed a toothy smile at his son before picking him up, again showing Loki how large the captain was in comparison to everything else.

Peter was the typical size for a three year old, if a little smaller due to the God that lived within him, though he looked like a new born when clutched in Steve's hands and resting against his bicep. The golden haired man nuzzled softly in the side of his son's head as he placed a kiss on his cheek, with a tenderness that Loki would have thought possible from one so large.

"I hope I am not in too much trouble?" he said hopefully whilst getting up from the floor, noticing that the child's playthings weren't put away and flicking his hand to do so. Green sparked from his fingertips and seemed to seep into the surrounding bits of plastic, life suddenly given to them so they could slip inside blue themed containers and beautifully constructed cabinets.

"Not trouble," Steve replied, his hands busy playing with his son's little fist, "I don't think anyone's been in trouble with him for a long time. It's probably just precautionary; just a bunch of questions on how Pete's doing, what he's playing with, why he isn't doing as much physics as he was before." Another grin stretched across the soldier's face. It wasn't unknown to him that Peter's interest had wavered somewhat, not enough to interrupt his papers and certainly not enough to worry Tony, but it was hard to say he was as dedicated to it as he had been before.

"Good to know I have brought the more relaxed side of Peter to play."

With that the God vanished, leaving Steve in the room with his little Peter and an amazed look on his face. He had heard of Loki's abilities but to actually see it first hand, be there when he vanished and appeared without having to battle him after…it was chilling.

"Captain Daddy," his thoughts were interrupted by the soft voice of his son, so sweet that it could have melted the coldest of hearts, "Hungry."

"Why don't we get you some carrot sticks, little man?"

Back down in the lab, Tony was carefully setting up their next round of tests. Each safety precaution was in place before they actually started designing the obstacle course, made of the finest material and monitored by the quickest computer programmes, JARVIS more alert to Peter's safety than he was to the actual readings. Bruce was gentle when he set up the syringes they would need, knowing he would hate to break Peter's skin so they could collect up his blood. The billionaire was far too concerned with his health sometimes, but they digressed.

"You requested me?" each man jumped when the voice came out of nowhere, suddenly realising that Loki had appeared and had seated himself on the lone black armchair that sat in the corner. Tony gripped the arc reactor in his chest, unsure how the God could have entered without alerting one of them.

"Have you been teaching Pete to use magic?"

Loki's eyes narrowed for a moment, turning his head to one side so he could peer at the man in front of him. He had taught him very few tricks – one of them had been picked up by mere observation, and the God knew he couldn't pass up teaching them. It had been extremely amusing to watch Peter try each one, his smile wide when he finally managed them.

"Only the more tame of my tricks."

"Does the 'tame' side include casting images? You know; duplicates of people?" the billionaire's face was the image of interest as he sat on his desk, covered with bits and pieces that Loki deemed both confusing and unimportant.

His eyebrows rose even further, "That is more advanced than I would have thought Peter to be. We have not covered those types of trickery."

"Well I was reading him a story a few days ago and _poof – _there was Steve. At least, there was his mirage. And it was only there for a second, but it was there long enough for me to see it."

"This is…I am not sure how to take this news, Stark. Peter and I have not discussed mirages. He must have…he must have seen it on a television show and attempted to replicate it."

"Or," Bruce slid into the scene as smoothly as he wiped his flask, that huge brain working at a million times the speed of normal peoples', "he could have watched you do it at some point and tried to copy it. He's the type to do that sort of thing. Give him a physics' textbook and ask him to read a certain page, he'll memorise the whole thing just to make us proud."

Loki smiled at the thought. He could imagine the child seeing him perform his tricks and, secretly, taking it upon himself to learn them, intent to make his uncle smile with his unique ability of magic.

"Perhaps," the God nodded, "Perhaps we need to discuss Peter's tutoring of magic further. It could be useful in future battles."


	75. Unsupervised

Peter played in his room alone for the rest of that day, perfecting his skills with carrot sticks and hummus. He hadn't been practicing magic for very long – a few days at the most, perhaps, but the effects were already starting to become apparent. With ease the carrot sticks moved to his fingers, his eyes as green as the day he was born and his forehead free of sweat.

Neither scientist was easily coerced into the idea of magic. They listened to Loki's reasoning with furrowed brows and anxious expressions, which was understandable considering the circumstances they had met him in. The magic he proposed for their son had been used against them a number of times. If they were to give permission for him to learn, it would be like giving him permission to use deadly weaponry.

Not that he hadn't already…

"Perhaps it would be simpler to show you what I have in mind?" the God suggested during their discussions, though he was met by quick shakes of the head and a flurry of movement from lively hands. A smirk came across his face; they were so easily frightened.

The child watched as toys floated past his eyes. There was a certain mirth to him that hadn't been seen in a while, like he was actually enjoying his gifts rather than honing them to a razor sharp point, using them when enemies were in the picture and he would die if he didn't.

"He's only little; I'm concerned with his health if he takes too much magic on," Bruce said as he wrote down notes on his tablet, the only thing that had survived after Tony's infamous doodle day.

"Magic can be taught slowly, and he seems to have picked it up quite well. I am unconcerned about his progress." The God waved his hand in front of the billionaire to keep him alert, knowing that his mind would drift off on what could happen if they didn't keep it focused. Tony managed a sarcastic grin in reply though it seemed somewhat genuine, if a little strained around the edges as he returned to his notes.

Peter carefully pulled the toys from his top shelves, "He's precocious, Loki."

"As was I at that age," toys came to life on the floor around him, a mantra of a dance that had been practiced a thousand times, "There shall be emphasis on the skills he already possesses. I shall not push him farther than I think him capable."

The dance turned erratic, "Do you think we'll have to clear a space for these lessons?"

"Perhaps." Toys began to spark with untold energy, each little piece flying off it as though it weren't a part of the toy, "It could also be a simple case of teaching him the basic abilities before we move on to advanced lessons."

Peter's eyes changed that ominous red as he watched the room around him rattle, sweat forming where there had once been a glowing grin and raised brows, "There's no chance this'll turn dangerous, is there?"

Loki smiled at the fear in Stark's voice. Of course the billionaire would be worried – they were talking about his only son after all, one who had travelled entire galaxies just to grace their Tower, just to lie in their arms each night as though he were an angel from the Heavens and they were the newly blessed family.

"I can assure you that magic has its limitations, and it shall have more under my supervision. The only way this can become dangerous is if he performs such tasks unsupervised."

That was when they felt it. Like an energy pulsating above their heads, Tony looked up with a wonder to what was happening, his fingers pressed against his temples as he felt a sharp stab ring through his brain. What was going on?

Steve crashed his entire body weight against the playroom door, but it seemed to be in vain. Thor, who had been alerted to the strange tremors after a particularly lengthy break in his music, tried to smash his hammer against the door where the soldier had failed to open it, but he was met by a quick shake of the head from his friend.

"Pete could be on the other side!" he explained in a hurried tone, still attacking the light blue entrance that was normally so calm. Red sheen shone through the cracks and blared into Steve's eyes, so intense that he thought he was looking into the very depths of Hell and all the demons that inhabited it, before he found sense enough to scream that they needed Loki and Tony, and all the other Avengers that were still in the Tower.

It was a matter of moments before Loki appeared, armed in his Asgardian outfit and horned helmet as though he were going into battle. Precious seconds ticked by as Steve flashed him a pained, helpless look, a silent beg that was met by a nod and a sudden disappearance from the God of Mischief.

More time trickled by. Thor and Steve waited in anticipated outside the door, the super soldier still resting against it whilst his boyfriend joined his side, with Bruce in tow some ways behind him. The silence was unbearable, painful; it was as if they had just found themselves in the eye of a vicious storm, one that had claimed the lives of their loved ones and that they had to face as well. Hands were rung together and eyes stayed glued to that once-innocent door, an entrance to all they wanted and all they would ever love, the quiet more like a sentence that they couldn't quite tolerate.

Finally, the glow died down. The door opened with a creak and there stood Loki, his hands clasped over Peter's sleeping form with the child's face pressed deeply in his shoulder.

"Unsupervised magic," he explained gently as he placed the boy in his fathers' arms, "It is a dangerous talent. Now that he understands how it is used, we must teach him how to be gentle with it. Abuse will turn back on the wielder."

Tony's fingers laced in the soft dark locks that he loved so much, eyes thick with tears as he went over every bead of sweat and invisible feature on his boy. He nodded, but only because he was so frightened. He didn't want any more strange happenings to plague the face that he adored, to haunt the child that he cared for and bring him any undue pain.

"Teach him," he whispered softly without looking up, "Teach him before anything else can happen."


	76. Lesson Number One

"Please do not cast those spells," Loki sighed for what felt like the hundredth time, being ignored again as his nephew moved tables and stacked chairs. Teaching wasn't a natural ability for him and to watch Peter perform such tasks was enlightening, if a little frustrating since he seemed to have no control over it.

The child played with his new found skills with little thought for his uncle. It was like he had been given a new toy and, with that same eagerness that he would approach any situation, he wanted to unfold it, learn all the tricks behind it so he could have the most fun possible, granted he could've done that easily. Magic wasn't a toy. It just seemed like it from the way Loki used it, making his many pranks possible with the help of his inborn abilities.

Again he pressed his fingers into his eyes as the table moved once more, that time to thrust itself against the lab door and shut out anyway who wished to go through. Tony had warned him that that exact scenario would happen. He had tried to explain that Peter's enthusiasm would sometimes make him careless, not intentionally so, but was definitely something they had to watch out for.

But even the amusing tale of the boy's mad science experiment hadn't deterred Loki, and he had so naively thought that he could control his excitement. Oh, how very wrong he was.

"Little one, you must sit down when manipulating objects," he explained whilst Peter went about his sorcery, that time to bend the aluminium soda can that Loki had been drinking to keep himself awake, unimpressed with the bitter tang of coffee and its various sweeteners. The soft metallic exterior was crushed as the boy smiled at him, as though to seek approval despite his not listening.

The lesson went on very much the same. Loki tried to make himself heard over Peter's giggling but, when it came down to it, little of what he said actually went in. His nephew sprang from the room an hour later, invigorated, beaming that beautiful smile whilst he bounded down the hallway to find Bruce and left Loki trailing behind, more exhausted than he had ever been before. And that was including his time on Asgard.

Stumbling into the kitchen with those dark circles, he made a beeline straight for the coffee machine in the corner. He hated the stuff, but Tony seemed so lively after he had drunk a cup and perhaps it could do the same to him, granted he wasn't sure one would do the trick.

"Tired?" Steve asked from his place at the table, head of it like a leader should have been, hands on a newspaper that was actually paper and not the tedious digital kind, "He's a handful, isn't he?"

"I am fairly certain your son is trying to kill me," Loki replied as he read the instructions of the machine. It had been like the billionaire to try and throw them away but for the benefit of the team – namely, the two Gods and the man from time – Bruce had found the same instructions online, placing them strategically behind it whenever he woke up in the morning.

Steve hid a bemused smile behind the black and white newsprint, knowing that tired voice meant it had been a particularly lively lesson, "Give it time; he's excited to learn something new. He's like it for the first few go's and then he's fine."

"I should be careful not to teach him the magic until I'm sure he understands it," he spoke more to himself, noting what he had done wrong and reflecting what he could improve, "The little one thinks there are no limitations."

Silence met his words, silence that was layered by a soft grunt. It was barely noticeable, inaudible – if it were anyone but Steve who had uttered it, it was unlikely that Loki would have heard it.

It was then that the God realised his blonde hair was ruffled, that his shirt was slightly screwed from what seemed like a skirmish and his cheeks were redder than tomatoes in the sun. He looked up for a moment to smile, explaining that his running had taken a detour and he found himself in a bad part of town, but he didn't change the clothes because he knew Tony was upstairs.

"He tends to condemn all non-mission violence," the soldier let his smile stay broad and his pride shone through it, "I don't really feel like the lecture today."

JARVIS's clean voice interrupted Loki's unspoken sentence, "I have informed Master Stark of your condition, sir. He's instructed me to tell you that he wants to see you in the lab, right away if you can manage."

"No," came the voice of the billionaire, "I told you to tell him to get his ass up here pronto. I wasn't that nice about it."

"I'm sorry sir, but I thought the terms were crass and decided that a quick change was in order."

"Hey, you're my AI! You're not supposed to be changing things for me; you're supposed to listen to me!"

"There are many programmes still running on my servers that allow me to keep you alive, sir. I believe that Miss Potts installed them."

"Give me five minutes and a laptop…"

Steve smiled as he laid his paper down, knowing that Tony would get about knee deep in the mess that was JARVIS before he realised he couldn't change his AI, that it was as much a part of the family as Peter was. He wasn't fussed about the life saving programs – they'd stay on there because the billionaire knew he needed them, particularly when Steve was on a mission and he was on a science binge.

He cast an apologetic smile to Loki, "I should probably go deal with this." The God nodded as the bitter coffee swirled in his mouth, the only thing taking his mind from it being the display of Tony and his computer.

"Have a good lecture," he called just as Steve walked through the door, to which he smiled and waved his customary 'thank you.'

_Just give it time,_ Loki reminded himself, taking sips from his drink and twitching at the taste, _yes, I can do that._


	77. The Night

Silence passed through the Tower. All was still as one little boy ran through the hallways, footsteps soundless each time they fell on the carpet, words not needed whilst his eyes gazed into the dark surrounding him.

It had been another one of those nights. Dreams were filled with monsters that he couldn't remember clearly, each one more terrifying than the last, and he knew that Tony and Steve had only recently gone to bed themselves. He wouldn't wake them up for his selfish needs. He refused to.

That was why he ran through those silent hallways like a prisoner freed, his grunts the only thing that echoed as he dodged plant-holding tables and pointless statues, contorted, twisted beyond all recognition for the human that had once modelled them. How Peter wished he could appreciate modern art, but even Steve muttered his distaste for it every now and again. He found solace in that.

Further below, Bruce had closed his laptop and decided to take a break from his important research. The heavy eyelids threatened to droop on him as he stretched, his legs uncrossing stiffly whilst he tried to remember if he had eaten that day, if he had even left his room. What was the date? He vaguely recalled when he had first stumbled on the topic he was researching, which had been an accident when he was looking for Joanna's birthday present. A week. A week had passed, and it had been two days since he really got down to it.

"Two days," he mused to himself before he climbed off the bed. It was a huge queen sized that Tony – bless his heart – had reinforced in case of 'mishaps,' each wooden touch hiding the bare metal beneath it. Around him was the beige professor-like scenery that he usually saw in films, with the mahogany desk nearer to the door and the huge arched window covered by silk curtains, a small twining tieback running down from them with the gold slightly frayed. He drank in the sight once more, as he had done when he first arrived to the Tower. It felt like home.

Peter glided through the small doors of the lift, shivering in his short sleeved Ironman pyjamas as he heard JARVIS's voice chime. It was the companion of the household; he had quickly gotten used to his unseen uncle and with its programming, it had come to accept him as his extended master. Now it made him smile as he looked up at the cold metal around him, hearing the collected voice that sometimes brought him comfort.

"Is there a reason for your being out of bed, sir?"

"Dreams," he replied in his little voice, barely registered by the AI, "Bad dreams. Scared."

"Am I to take you to your father's floor?" it asked with a feigned sort of concern. Many years ago it had been programmed to take care of Tony, a practical child with a man sized body, and in some ways it was refreshing to use those programmes for an actual child. It did make for a nice change; someone sober was in the lift at a ridiculous hour at night, rather than slurring command after command that would likely get them killed.

"No!" the child smiled wickedly, "Uncle Bruce!" he knew that his uncle hadn't been around for a while, catching snippets of conversation between his family to learn his whereabouts, and he wanted to see him before their lessons started up again. He was always so serious during calculus and biology classes – it bored him.

Loki sat in his room, toying with the lesson plans in front of him so he could see a noticeable pattern. The last few classes had all ended very much the same way, with Peter using more advanced magic that he had intended and causing miniature catastrophes, which needed to be cleaned up before Tony could catch wind of it. How the boy was pushing his luck! But Loki loved him, and so he allowed for it, choking back his frustrations with coffee or anything else he could find.

"What're you doing down here?" Bruce asked as a cannonball exploded from the lift, the small body quickly recognised as Peter and picked up with a small smile, "Why aren't you asleep?" he watched whilst the boy nuzzled into his head, like he was trying to find comfort in the tussled hair and sweat-stained collar of his scientist. "How about we go downstairs and get some milk?"

That was enough to make the child smile, if only because he liked the idea of warm milk and the comfort of Bruce's arms.

"Hm?" Loki looked up when he heard a sound coming from the lift chute, some ways away from the room he sat in as various objects floated through his vision. Who would be up at that time?

Clint stopped working tirelessly on his bow, noticing the subtle change in whirring that came from the elevator. His interests perked. Who would be up at that time?


	78. The Hawk's Ways

"What's he doing awake?" Clint asked when the elevator doors slid open, revealing Bruce and Peter amongst the shining metal. It was a quick explanation of dreams that made the collected man head straight for the kitchen, his mind on the microwave and where they had left the milk.

Peter snuggled deeply in the sofa cushions as he was passed a cuddly toy, which was some sort of cocker spaniel teddy bear that Steve had fawned over. The super soldier wasn't exactly the manliest when it came to teddy bears, buying every one he saw and telling Tony that they were to go to their son, when it reality it was him who played with them.

He was toying with it when there was a soft glow of light, a disturbance that Bruce hardly noticed as he tapped away on his laptop, sitting with his face against the glowing blue computer screen without glancing at his young nephew. It was a moment before he finally glanced over and saw it; a whitish outline that Hawkeye was peering at suspiciously, his bow at the ready in his hands as he edged closer to Peter.

"There's no need for that," the scientist sighed, bringing his coffee cup to his lips, "Loki's not going to cause any trouble." It was then that the God suddenly manifested from the light, his limbs forming from the nothingness with that confusion on his face, which was deepened when he saw Hawkeye's extended bow so close to their darling nephew.

"Depends how you look at it," the archer muttered in reply before he slowly put the bow on his back, though he just wanted to keep it locked on Loki. He didn't fully trust him. He knew that he was part of the family and Peter loved him, but that didn't mean any of his ill will had depleted.

"Why do you have your bow so close to the little one?" a glide of a walk found Loki sitting beside his nephew, an arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders as his gaze looked horrified at his counterpart, "Would you give your children a weapon?" he was answered by a quick shake of the head, distrustful gaze never wavering from his thin, pale face, "Then why have your own out so close to Peter? Is your nephew not close to your child?"

Hawkeye's face fell whilst he stared at the God, "Are you seriously giving me parenting advice?! You, of all people? Mister 'Let's-destroy-New-York-for-kicks?!'"

There was tension for Bruce as he glanced at his nephew, who was too busy playing with his toy to notice the argument between Loki and Clint. At that moment he thanked God for small pleasures, knowing that it would have been Hell if Peter got scared and Tony, with his ninja-like father senses and crazy ability to just appear out of nowhere, had found out. He didn't need that sort of lecture, not that he hadn't received it many times before.

"Perhaps, but I did not do it in front of the little one, and I would refrain from all unnecessary violence when he is able to see it."

"I'm not hearing this. Bruce, tell me I'm not hearing this – am I really getting berated by Loki?!"

Peter looked up at that, if only because he hadn't heard the word 'berated' before. His eyes glimmered curiously as he suddenly became aware of the situation, hands busy with placing the dog gently down whilst he drank in the sight before him. Neither man noticed his shift in attention. Even if they did, Bruce doubted they would have cared.

"There is nothing telling me that you are a good caretaker. Your weapons are dangerous, and yet you draw them in such close proximities to the little one," the God's fingers laced themselves absentmindedly in the dark locks, his smile a threat on his lips as he kept his gaze locked on the furious Barton in front of him, still standing and beginning to pace in his anger, "Steve and Stark would be severely disappointed in your actions, I'm sure."

The fire in Clint's eyes was close to being dangerous, close to burning all that sat in the living room, "I only had my bow out because I thought you were dangerous. Turns out I was right, because you're dangerous as Hell; you're not some sort of uncle-teacher thing, you're a psychopath! You shouldn't be around Pete!"

Instant silence fell over the listeners. Loki, who had been fondly ruffling the boy's locks as he smiled at the pacing archer, froze whilst all trace of that smile disappeared, almost like it hadn't been there and they had just imagined it. The silence became unbearable for Bruce, uncomfortably clearing his throat before he tried to divert their attention to his tapping, as if he was trying to remind them that they weren't alone.

Mere moments later, the God had vanished. Peter looked up, confused at the loss of touch and warmth that his uncle's hand had provided, before he turned his gaze towards the suddenly frozen archer. What had he done? Why had Loki disappeared so quickly, without even a kiss on the forehead to bid Peter goodbye?

"Well done," Bruce groaned whilst pinching the bridge of his nose, "You've upset him."

"What, Pete?" a quick glance spared to check his nephew was okay, Clint looked rather confused by the whole ordeal. It was as if he hadn't really been standing there; instead, there had been a madman in his place without a censor on his mouth, liable to spill out all sorts of precious opinions that he normally kept to himself.

"Loki, you idiot!"

"What? He's not upset. Wait til tomorrow and he'll be back down here annoying everyone. Mark my words."

"Maybe one of us should," the scientist rose from his seat after a well-timed save, his research on a backburner so he could collect Peter up and walk towards the door, "You've got to get your head together. If I have to tell Tony – or, better yet, Steve – about this little outburst, I don't think they're going to be very happy, are they?"

The threat was evident. It was heard to Clint even as the scientist walked to the steps, Peter nuzzled deeply in his shoulder with a noticeable quiver on his lips.

In anger the archer sat, his index and fore fingers pressed into his eyes whilst he replayed the moment in his head. He couldn't remember half of what he'd said. He could only remember Loki's smug smile as he told him he wasn't a good uncle, the slight twitches in his eye whenever he said something and the ever observant glow in those dark green depths…

He had been strangely vigilant. It unnerved Hawkeye to think back to it, to envision them watching him and his heated reactions, as though he were almost plotting how far he could provoke him. Why did he do…?

And suddenly, it dawned on him. He suddenly realised why the God had said all those things, intent on finding out just how much Clint cared by seeing how he reacted to such claims. If he didn't care, he wouldn't have minded the comments. If he did he would have got more and more heated, broiling down to the point where he had shouted something he would inevitably regret. Loki was always one step ahead of everyone, _always. _How could he not have seen it?!

"Dammit Barton," he growled, "Now you're going to have to apologise."


	79. The Centre of the Tower

The wind whispered through Stark Tower as Loki stood on the balcony, the conference room behind him plunged into darkness as he admired the shining moon above. He wished his thoughts were as peaceful as the world around him.

Hawkeye had been correct. The God shouldn't have been with Peter, not after all he had done and his predilections for chaos. He should have been locked up in the deepest pits of an Asgardian dungeon, his mouth muzzled as it had been when he last left earth whilst time went on, taking Peter farther from him. There wasn't much he could say in the way of convincing people, save that he'd happily have his magic stolen from him if it meant that he could continue being the boy's uncle.

But his magic was entwined with his being, and that made it impossible to steal without first killing him. So he would settle for having to hide himself away in the Tower, helping the Avengers raise their little spaceman without raising too much attention as they, being the forgiving people they were, would go off and protect the maddened populace as best they could. The thought of them risking their lives for them made his blood boil, yet he supressed it. He couldn't very well tell them to stop.

Silence gave him enough time to reflect on all he had done; it gave him the ability to sort through the mess that was his mind, organising muddled thoughts into neatly filed stacks and changing things that displeased him. Once upon a time it had been so easy to do that, back when he had all the time in the world, locked in the tiny cell that would serve as his home.

"That didn't go as planned," Bruce said to his young nephew whilst he climbed up one of the bedposts, so easily that he could've been part monkey, "You're not going to sleep tonight, are you?" he was answered by a quick headshake before the boy dived down on the duvet, where he began to entangle himself with joyous giggles and small-footed kicks. "Well then, I suppose I better get my laptop running and finish these notes."

They sat in perfect tranquillity for a few hours, unaware of Loki and his blight above them. It was only when Tony had stumbled up there after realising he left something on the bar that he found him, standing quietly at the edge of the balcony like he had done so many months ago, but that time with a hopeless frown on his face.

Obsidian hair blended almost perfectly with the black starry sky, the pale features highlighted by a silvery glow whilst his nostrils billowed white smoke. Toothpick thin arms were crossed uncomfortably over his chest, with his swaying almost unnoticeable in the frozen air around him, his only noise the gentle gasps when the wind picked up and died back down.

"Loki?" the God turned to his voice, a weak forced smile on his face when he spotted the sleep-deprived billionaire, "What're you doing out here?"

More silence rose around him as he thought on the answer, wondering if he should have told Tony about Hawkeye's shout and demanded an apology. However, instead of causing an argument, Loki simply turned to stare out at the skyscrapers and park before him, a hint of resignation on his face.

"Thinking." was all he replied.

"Out here? It's freezing tonight," Tony remarked as he sampled the air, "You shouldn't really be wearing just that if you're going to stand around all night." It was true – Loki wore only his sleep clothes, which consisted of a pale green t-shirt and a small pair of grey tracksuit bottoms, all having been bought to fit his supremely thin frame so that they wouldn't slip off.

He was rewarded by a shrug, "I will survive the cold. I am not a fragile little woman; the cold is my being."

The way his eyes dulled at that time struck something within Tony. He knew how it felt to hate everything he was, to despise what he saw in the mirror no matter how he tried to change it. To see those emotions reflected in Loki's face, the white features touched by self-loathing and the resignation in his eyes, caused the billionaire to look at him in a new light. A light that wasn't bathed in blood and screams.

"Do you want a drink?" he asked without thinking, pouring one himself as he nudged the important documents to the side. They hadn't been in any danger in the conference room; he wondered why he had come up here for them for a moment before, as with everything, he discarded it for the matter at hand.

Loki tensed for a moment, remembering when he had last been offered a drink by his companion, "No, thank you."

"You sure?" a comical raise of the eyebrows, "It's good stuff. Warms the stomach."

"I'm sure you would know what warms the stomach, Stark."

"I've got an idea," without warning he was beside the God, his hands burdened with two glasses of something that Loki had never tasted before, "How about we stop the insults tonight? There's no one else around – we don't have to fight for the top intelligence spot. We both know I'd win, anyway."

No reply came from Loki's lips as he clutched the glass, too tired to fight against someone who, admittedly, was able to come up with soul crushing retorts.

Tony wasted no time drinking before he found the courage to talk again, "You know, we like you being around here. You've become a real cog in the Tower."

"Furniture," the God replied with a sharpness in his voice.

"Not furniture," quick to correct as always, "Part of the family. It'd be weird not to have you around. That being said, Pete loves you."

"I know."

"And you love him."

"I do." The reply came much slower than the first one, as though he saw it as weak to admit his feelings. Again, being raised on Asgard had its downfalls.

"Then you shouldn't be thinking about whatever you're thinking about," Tony's uncanny ability to deduce things was infuriating, something that even Steve found annoying when he was trying to keep things to himself, "Part of the family, Loki. And to quote a well-known phrase, 'Ohana means family, and family means no-one gets left behind.'"

The sentiment behind his words was intoxicating, and Loki had to steady himself before he processed them. With a grin he brought the drink to his face, wondering where the saying came from and why it sounded so adorable.

"If you believe that," he replied.


	80. Ohana

Peter rested calmly on Bruce's shoulder after an eventful night of research, his eyes heavy as the scientist rocked him. The soothing cradle was warm enough for animals to hibernate and the child knew this well, nuzzling further into his uncle's skin whilst the other teammates made their way downstairs, one by one, coffee by coffee disappearing as they tried to wake themselves up.

"Morning all," Bruce purred with sleepy eyes, too content with Peter's warm hug to feel the effects of sleeplessness, "Is everyone working today?" he was met by a few angry nods from Natasha and Clint, who were partaking in a particularly short scout mission not too far away. Fury wasn't down by that point but they faintly recalled him having several appointments to make, with who being on a strictly need-to-know basis.

It was the super soldier who came down next. His arms were laden with washing and his smile was broad despite the bland day ahead, because that meant he could spend it doing his favourite things; drawing, reading poetry and playing with his little Peter. With a warm greeting to his son and the doctor holding him, Steve's eyes quickly scanned the white dining table for any signs of his fiancé, who hadn't been in bed when he had woken up that morning.

Not a strange occurrence, but still…

"Where's Tony?" he asked, quick to add, "And Loki?" once he realised the God wasn't there either, not that Thor had noticed. The blonde haired thunder lord had already started searching for food in the American fridge freezer, stuffed with the unrealistic amounts of perishables and nutrients that any growing God would need.

Clint looked up nervously from his coffee for a moment, though the only person to notice was Natasha. Rarely did he react to what was going on around him, preferring to stick to his instincts and not get involved unless it was absolutely necessary, yet he seemed to look almost…guilty at the mention of Loki's name. For a moment she considered questioning him, granted she was soon distracted by the chatter of the team.

"I think they're upstairs," Bruce ruffled his nephew's locks as he spoke, untameable with each curled strand and shiny black whip, "Conference room."

"You mean the bar. There's only one reason Tony'll be up there after hours, and that's to be at the bar," a frustrated growl emanated from Steve's lips when he spoke, because it was so typical of the billionaire to sneak off for drinks. He wouldn't get stupidly drunk anymore but his idea of a 'buzz' was most people's idea of 'completely blitzed.' It became tediously repetitive for Tony to disappear every night for a drink, only returning when he thought he would get in trouble otherwise.

Bruce offered him a weak smile, "I'm sure he just forgot something up there, started working on it when he found it. You know what he's like."

There was a shrug in response before the super soldier took his son, instantly noticing the faint circles under his eyes and the sleepy smile he managed to pull. If he weren't in such an annoyed mood with his father, Steve would have been annoyed at his son. Thank God for small pleasures.

"Why haven't you been to bed?" was all he sighed and he took Bruce's explanation without questioning it, his son's head pressed into his shoulder like he just wanted to disappear.

Upstairs in the conference room, Loki and Tony were also awake. They had spent the whole night discussing things that mattered, such as primitive (in Loki's opinion) science and his Asgardian magic, each topic making them realise that their differences were few and far between. That scared Tony more than anything. He knew that he and Loki were almost like kindred spirits, even if he had an intense hatred for his own species and an almost unquenchable lust for magic.

Another drink to add to the dozens, the God was finally starting to feel light headed from his indulgence. Tony had slowed down after the third but, with some hint of amazement, he watched as his companion downed one after the other, almost envious of his ability to do so.

"That's amazing," he breathed once Loki placed his glass down again. It earned a small genuine smile from him, but not one that remained for long.

"You Midgardians do not drink well."

"Not compared to you, apparently," a devilish grin broke free, "Are you even drunk? You don't look drunk."

His hand brushed lightly over the pale forehead as he thought on his answer, eventually admitting, "A little woozy, but nothing that I cannot handle. I have seen Thor in much worse states."

"Thor's been drunk? When?"

"Banquets, feasts, celebratory meals…come to think of it, never when there is not a large amount of food present."

"Noted," Tony lunged over to his notepad, the pen placed conveniently at the side in sudden use as a grin stretched on his face, "I'll be breaking out for the next team dinner." Loki managed a smile in response, pouring another glass whilst the billionaire busied himself.

And he smiled around the glass, but only because he had reminded himself of something. All those nights ago when he had dreamt of the billionaire, in that park as the young Peter busied himself with mortal children – he had felt happy. Confused, yes, but happy. And as he sat on that comfortable sofa, he was extremely happy. He was part of the family.

Ohana.


	81. Offer

After Clint had apologised – a ceremony in which he had to get down on his knees for, much to the team's amusement – all sense of normality returned to the Tower. Peter played with his uncles and aunt as he normally would, seeing his fathers in between missions whilst the rest of the world zipped past them aimlessly. It was bliss.

Loki had a bad feeling.

"Conference room," Steve called to them when he darted past the playroom one morning, the same morning that they had planned to finally piece Peter's music box back together and see if the upgrades would work. The God looked down at his little nephew, so eager to follow his father, and he knew that something bad was coming. With a heavy pit in his stomach they made their way to the conference room, confronted by the whole team sitting on the sofas and listening to Fury when they finally arrived.

It was a relatively normal sight. They were up in the room for briefings all the time, especially when the media was blowing up about something that no one cared about, but that time was different. Loki could see the tensed shoulders of Steve almost before the elevator doors had opened, and Tony's pacing didn't help calm his nerves. Instantly he gripped Peter's soft hand, his face the picture of suspicion when they took their respective seats.

"Good, he's here," the director said as he turned to a little board, which Loki hadn't noticed was there until his fingers drummed against it. Its white surface was stained with twisted red words and contorted diagrams that seemed to depict an elephant's insides, though they quite clearly said 'Secret base' on the top. Loki watched, mesmerised as Fury added bits and started to cross things away with each of the teammate's shouts.

Then Tony finally stopped his pacing and biting of his fingernails, "Right, and the last one went so well! Why are we even considering sending Pete in there again?" he snatched up the innocent little being as he spoke, like he could save him just by being there, just by holding him so tightly to his arc reactor that not even a vice would remove him, "I won't let it happen. Steve, you'll back me up, right?" he looked wildly at his blonde haired boyfriend who by that point had remained silent. His blue eyes searched the board as if looking for a way around it, hands clasped together with index fingers against his lips.

Loki turned with a question in his eyes. It was Bruce who explained the situation to him, granted he wished he hadn't when green eyes went wide and the God had sprung to his feet, almost bristling in disbelief whilst he gazed wildly at the director.

"You cannot be serious! To send the little one into an active base…surely it's suicide?!"

"He almost got hurt the last time," Clint quietly mentioned from where he sat, closer to the window where he could watch the masses more easily. It was hard to admit that he disagreed with his director because, no matter his feelings, he would have to go along with what Fury said. That was the idea of being a SHIELD agent.

And he had done nothing to calm Loki, "The little one is far too young for such tasks. If need be, I will take his place."

The room went silent. Even Tony was speechless as his eyes locked onto the God, wondering if he heard right. Was he offering himself in placement of Peter?

"That's…" Fury looked up at them all, "That's not what SHIELD want. They want Crimson Shades on the job; the only one of us small enough to get through air ventilations." He added the last bit with a knowing glance to Clint, who had been used to being picked over for infiltrations jobs as of late.

"Then they shall want me far more than Peter," Loki hissed through gritted teeth, "My magic will allow me to be in and out before anyone will know I am there. It is far quicker than endangering the little one, don't you think?"


	82. Peter Helps

Loki didn't think his plan through properly, but that didn't bother him. Often, his strategies were conceived moments before the battle, when he had a clear indication of what he was going up against and what defences they had. That time was no different to all the others. After all he was still breathing, and that had to say something for his skills.

"Are you sure about this?" Steve was the only willing to ask as they stood in the kitchen, with the God dressed in his green Asgardian leathers and clutching his latest weapon tightly to his side. There was a twinkle in those deep blue eyes; fear, but not fear for losing a potential ally. It was fear for losing a friend.

"I see no other alternative," he replied whilst inspecting his weapon. It was a fine piece crafted from the grandest wood, somewhere deep in the belly of his homeland's forests where he rarely ever ventured, a gift from his mother at one time. Though it had lost that sentiment, it still proved a brilliant weapon and a wonderful conversation piece.

"We can always find one. I don't want either of you going out there," the admission was quiet, guarded, rather unlike the captain and his openly affectionate ways, "We'd do better if we contacted SHIELD and tried to work something else out."

Loki couldn't help but smile at his naivety. Usually it infuriated, often to the point where he would yell at them and make them disappear, yet the leader didn't have that effect on him. He simply loved the way he applied his old fashioned ways to everyday situations, despite those ways being more obsolete than a cassette.

But he had to remain on topic, "I am uncertain that this would help, so I must do this myself. Perhaps young Peter shall be safer once I am through; the SHIELD you talk about must adore power." The child sat on the table as they talked, unaware of the severity of the situation they were in. Soft faced smiles were passed whilst Steve's fingers laced in his hair, which had been tamed not hours before by a haircut and Tony's specialist 'hair designer.'

Peter nuzzled into his father's large hand, earning more smiles from the two men that watched him so carefully. The God couldn't remember a time he had loved another so much, save his own children, and he momentarily wondered if his happiness meant that something awful was on the horizon. Those thoughts were gone almost as quickly as they arrived when Peter took his long fingers, a small hand clasped over his index and that brave face directed at him.

"I help," he offered quietly, "I help Uncle Loki. Uncle Loki need me."

"No, little one. You are far too young to be in such a situation." His fingers were caught in a tighter grasp, the same soft hands going rigid against his less-than-warm skin.

The green eyes stared into his with the ferocity of a lion, "Uncle Loki need help…Peter help. Peter strong." With his words his eyes turned blood red, levitating whatever was around him just to demonstrate his ability. Steve watched, mesmerised as always, whilst his coffee floated aimlessly out of the cup and his pen drifted from his pocket, gliding past his eyes as he thought about the mess afterwards.

"JARVIS, get ready to clean," he sighed, which made the God turn his head slightly to acknowledge him before he turned it back. Peter stared at them so intently that he thought he was looking into the deepest fathoms of the universe, the strands of which were slowly coming apart and fraying. Nothing was real. All that remained was Peter and those blood red eyes, staring him down into the very fabrics of his existence.

The quiet descended like an electric fog before the eyes reverted, with only the smallest beads of sweat to indicate they had ever changed. Coffee spilled, pens fell and towels ended up on the floor, where they were quickly snatched up by several miniature cleaning tools that JARVIS had sent out.

"Peter help," the child pressed after what seemed like an age of silence, "Peter help uncle Loki. Strong. Strong powers."


	83. Mjolnir

"You've both got the plans; I want them followed to the letter," Tony was saying as he looped another grenade into his son's belt, a second pair of hands fumbling beside him to put on a helmet and several safety features that made Peter's eyes roll, "The bottom floor is all we really want. It's full of the warheads we're looking for and when you find them – Pete, stop fidgeting – when you find them, I want you to memorise every detail and come right back."

"Would it not be more efficient to simply steal one?" the God inquired whilst he shot a warm grin at his nephew. It was a wonder that Peter hadn't died of boredom from the time it took to modify his suit, with each new safety feature like a heavy prison sentence and making his garish outfit look even worse, granted the design was in discussion. From what the trickster heard Steve wanted his costume to be blue and Tony, ever the type to have all the bells and whistles, wanted it a stylish chrome-black, with enough sleek metal around him to make sure he never got hurt.

"It's not possible," came the Captain's voice from where he stood, not quite as hardened as he would have liked it whilst he stroked his child's face, "They'll realise we were in there. If Pete's insisting to help you, we need to make sure that everything goes to plan; nothing gets ignored, skipped or scrimped on. You've got to read what we gave you."

The plans were perfect in his hands. They detailed the floor Loki was supposed to take his nephew to; each little dotted line was fitted with a measurement of some description that Tony had thought was important, careful to etch them with the exact materials used for the walls and what made up the floor, as if it would help the God should they run into trouble. Why did he need to know there was mesh on the windows? It was hardly liked he used them for escape, his powers always ready when other means would fail him.

Peter watched as his parents grappled with his belt buckle once more before finally he clipped it himself, eyes sparking with irritation that they were being so careful. He was with Loki this time, after all. Where he had failed on the first mission, the God would succeed and ensure that their plans went ahead, that their victory was inevitable since Loki was involved.

He spoke in small, controlled sentences, "Daddies calm. Peter be safe with Uncle Loki. Promise."

How could they not trust that face? How could look into those sure eyes and that soft smile and think, even for the briefest second, that Loki wouldn't do everything possible to protect him? It was a niggling thought that the God might go back on his word, a thought that they instantly pushed to the back of their mind so they could focus on the present. Loki would protect Peter. They had to trust him.

"You'll do great out there," Steve whispered to him with a voice as soft as cotton, rather unlike what the God had seen from the red, white and blue hero, his voice usually the pinnacle of all things fearsome. It was strange to see him wearing the costume and acting so tenderly with his son.

"I am sure you are all fretting for nothing," why did he feel such a need to comfort them? "Peter has shown that he can handle a few brutes. If we were to put him in the Asgardian forces, all warriors would be but children in comparison."

Tony managed to force that genuine smile, so small when compared to his broad grin, "He's definitely stronger than Thor. Not that he'd ever admit it."

"The spaceman is not stronger than I! His is a talent born in magic – my talent rests within my body and my hammer!"

They could only smile when Thor strode through the plane with his hammer in hand, his Asgardian leathers dark blue against the beige interior around him. It was a wonder the Thunder God ever bothered speaking; his form was intimidating enough, let alone the roar of his battle cry when he rode into a fight. For some people, it was mesmerising. For others, it was terrifying.

For his team, it was more or less the norm.

Loki couldn't help a small flicker of a half-smile, "Thor, you are far too attached to than hunk of metal."

"It is my hammer! It's everything that I want to be!"

"A hunk of metal," he repeated, spacing the words deliberately, "A hunk of unthinking, uncooperative and inflexible…no matter; you are exactly like Mjolnir."

"Be silent brother," came the God's disgruntled growl as he took up one of the leathery seats, though his smile didn't waver.


	84. Mistakes

The mission went swimmingly. Loki couldn't remember a time when something went so well for him, with his precious little nephew in arm as he finally returned to the conference room and, smiling that smug smile, handed him over to the awaiting team. In his hand sat a sheet of white paper; it detailed the complicated arrays of warheads that they'd spotted together, each one just a variation of the other and in some form, all part of Stark's old collection.

"Consumers," Tony spat from where he was seated, clutching his wiggling ball of Peter so tightly that one would have thought he could vanish, "Steve, does he feel cold? He feels cold. Nick, turn up the thermostat? Hang on – JARVIS?"

No one paid particular attention to their friend and his over protective habits, more intent on what Loki had to say. The God felt small twinges of pride at their praise, thrown off casually throughout his explanation as though he'd been with them since the start. It made his heart smile. But then he pushed the thoughts away, because they were a sign of weakness.

"The little one was an excellent partner on my mission. He was silent, vigilant and directed away all trouble we may have run into," he turned his head and softly smiled at the boy, who was nuzzling further into his father's chest to hide his red glow of embarrassment.

"He's always a great soldier in the field," Steve nodded in confirmation, a raised index finger pressed against his jaw, "You did good out there today; you made us proud." Peter didn't react to his father's words and, with a cocked eyebrow, Loki wondered why, until he felt a firm hand fall on his shoulder and repeat, "You were both great. You've done right by the team. Tony – start analysing the warheads and find out which ones they are. I want this stuff's weaknesses in front of me in an hour, do we understand?"

Like that, the Avengers started working on their own things. It were as if the team had become a thousand broken fragments, transforming their own piece of the parchment and somehow knowing what the others would do, how to make everything fit together. Loki watched them in silent awe as they went about their separate jobs, with Steve and Tony vanishing out the door to inspect Stark's impressive warheads.

Peter smiled at his uncle before he leaned towards him, as though he felt the crucial time was a perfect opportunity for their games. It was with a great strength that Loki shook his obsidian head and took his nephew's soft hand, his eyes softer as he looked upon those confused features.

"There is work to be done," was all he said, which Peter nodded at before returning to his own work. Computer codes for the fine tuning of the warheads…it was thrilling to watch as his small codes turned a doorstop into a weapon, purpose changed to the tune of his doodling whilst the world around him blurred and he became lost in the depths of his mind, the unfathomable reaches of the universe that lay a mystery to all but him. Loki's head turned to watch him, granted he didn't know anything that the child was writing about.

Silence reigned supreme for hours before the God grew bored. Swinging on the chair he began to inspect his surroundings; simple bland walls of grey rose high to encase them, the computer on one side beeping with some sort of terrorist's picture and the analyse of what they knew, yet the rest of the room was very much bare. The only thing that really stood out was the metal desk, dotted with Avengers that went about their work so diligently.

The boredom overtook him. Soon, he was making patterns in the air. Later, he began making the patterns move. It caught the attention of one silent boy as he struggled with a particularly difficult section of code; Peter looked up to see twisting blue triangles and spirals dance just a little way above his head, smiling slightly as he stole a glance at his uncle and tapped his fingers on the desk.

"Uncle Loki," his playful voice said before he cast his own magic – a playful kitten formed out of crystalline sparks, prancing along the patterns that Loki had conjured whilst swatting at them like a real cat. His uncle counteracted it with a pup, which was counteracted by a monstrous hamster and finally, the pair managed to make a wonderful pair of guppy fish together, bounding over the sea that was the sky and leaping through the sheen of beaming light, as free and careless as the world they seemed to live in.

"Well, not that I'm not sure you're doing something important," Steve's voice made the visages explode in a burst of light, the conjurers' attentions suddenly stolen as they turned their heads, "But we've managed to figure out exactly which ones are being used. Pete, did you finish what Daddy gave you?" the child nodded as his father's large hands gripped the sheet, granted he couldn't read it and hoped he would never have to, "Good. I want you to start working on the…the…JARVIS!"

The cool crisp voice was a great deal more sure that Steve's had been, "Master Stark's instructions are for you to create alternate pathways, Master Peter. His exact words were-"

A pre-recorded voice, "I want these pathways able to deactivate or reverse the warheads' effects. I want them fast, accurate and with no chance of failing – do you understand me, Steve?"

The super soldier's blue eyes fell back to his son as he realised he knew what he was doing, quick to signal to Loki that he needed a small word. When the pair were outside and the door was shut, those eyes turned to him.

"We'll need you for this."

"For what, Captain?"

"For the mission. It's looking dangerous; seems like the warheads had pre-set locations to fire on – all of them away from America – and now we're worried the wrong people have got hold of it."

"You wanted to kill innocents in other countries, and you did not expect retaliation?"

"Bad men," the captain grit his teeth when he saw that mischievous spark in Loki's eye, "Bad men that wanted to hurt innocent people."

"And the innocents that are killed will simply be collateral damage; I understand," there was no room for argument as the God waved his hand, "You have my powers at your disposal, Captain. I would not want to be the reason you failed, especially not if it were to hurt the team."

Blue eyes were back on him like a lightning strike, but he was quick to correct himself, "Peter. I would not want to be the cause for Peter's harm." A hint of amusement fell across Steve's lips, a sudden break from his heroic personality when he softly replied.

"Of course. Carry on, soldier."


	85. Joining

Loki spent the rest of the day trying to get things organised, ready for whatever inane task Steve asked of him. He thought it best that he was out of Peter's presence when the boy was doing such delicate work, what with the codes and the reverse engineering of a deactivating switch, and so he had made himself scarce in the Avenger's meeting room. It was something that didn't go unnoticed.

He was hardly expecting the cannonball that ran to him. Sometime before dinner Peter appeared outside his door, which had been left open for all the scrolls he was carrying back and forth, proceeding to run into his thin legs like they hadn't seen one another in weeks. His smile brightened the metallic room around them, his hug warm and his excited voice a breath against the back of Loki's knees.

"You should be working," the God noted as he tried to hide the amusement in his voice. His nephew, however, didn't seem to care less when he clambered up the green leathers that he had grown so used to, breathing pure excitement whilst he conjured up the blue triangles again. It was a pain to put him back down. It was a pain to look into those green eyes and deny them anything, especially something they could only do together.

"Uncle?"

"Your father has given me clear instruction – I am to work on my own part of the mission until later notice. Go on your struggles. It shall be a good day once we are finished."

But the child didn't seem convinced as he laid those beautiful eyes to the ground, silent and observant though, for the most part, seeming to be saddened by the turn in events. Why did everything have to get in the way? Why couldn't they play their games happily and waste the day away, content to just be together?

"Today is a harsh day, and tomorrow shall be no better," Loki predicted as he turned back to his work, the scrolls upon scrolls built up on a standard issue single bed and the pristine sheets stained by dust, "But soon time will pass and we shall be able to resume our games. Are you tired? Do you need rest?"

It was hard to keep track of time in a place with no windows, but he knew that much of it had melted and soon it would be night-time; perhaps it was night already and they simply hadn't realised, too intent to finish work that the lesser people didn't dabble in, too determined to save millions of lives whilst others struggled with one.

"Uncle Loki…play!" he was pressing for playtime because it had been a long time since they had, what with the mission interrupting their normal routines. He was bored. He was irritated that everything was out of their control. Only Loki could give that control back to him, through both magic and enjoyment, yet the God didn't seem to want to. How the tables had turned.

"Not tonight," he insisted wearily. It was then that Steve strode into the hall, armed with Shield and a strange pistol that he had been trying out, that smile on his face all but happy.

"Pete, you're here," the super soldier noted before he turned to his fellow adult, "Have you finished the schematic things?"

"No Captain Daddy."

"Why don't you run along and get them done? Uncle Loki needs to be working on his own stuff for the minute."

"But-"

"No buts. I want you to have them finished in two hours, do you understand me?"

There was a pause and then a brief nod of understanding, Peter's footsteps heavy when he left the room. There wasn't much arguing when his father was in that mood, especially when there were lives at stake. It was a while after he was gone that Loki realised the captain was still standing there, looking as though he had something important to say yet, at the same time, not really doing much except swaying.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked, careful to place his scrolls down before he dared look Steve in the eye. The soft pondering was cute. It was something that the Frost Giant rarely saw in his own home, where the solutions were so black and white that they became more tedious than the situation.

"Your training sessions for the Avengers start next week. You'll be under tight restrictions throughout them, with Asgardian wards on hold so they can stop you if you get too…"

"Mischievous? I thought as much," more scriptures were pulled out, more ancient words, "I shall be there."

"I appreciate this, Loki."

"I'm sure you do."

"You didn't have to join, and you're still doing it to protect the world," with a deep sigh he correct himself, though he knew it wasn't expressly true, "I mean, you're doing it to protect Pete. It's a noble thing to do."

There was a soft smile as Loki finally turned to him, abandoning all sense of literature when he gazed at the man of the past, the beacon of all patriotic pride that stood just a fraction of a metre away from him.

"It is my honour."


	86. So He Fights

Time passed and Loki found himself in a training room, surrounded by obstacles that were either destroyed or so damaged that they would never be used again. His sceptre stayed steady in his hands whilst he glanced at the one way window above him, black tinted but holding the watchful eyes of Steve, Peter and Nick, all of them intent on inspecting the scene in front of them.

Loki was formidable. That much was certain. Fury had watched as he destroyed drone after drone, barely breaking a sweat whilst each of them collapsed at his feet with mangled metal shells; they were broken like his enemies, and he loved it.

"He'll make a good Avenger," the director commented, eyeing the buttons next to him that flashed red and blue, careful to keep Peter's soft hands away from them so he could concentrate on which ones were active.

"He's in then?"

"No." the reply was honest and blunt, just like Fury, "Loki's got to go through psychological and medical tests first, then he's in. It's sort of an all-round thing."

The Captain couldn't help but wonder at that, "But none of us were told to do that."

"You were all watched prior to joining the Avengers. We found you in ice. Tony was constantly in the news. Barton and Romanoff were already part of SHIELD. Banner was AWOL, but not unknown. When Thor turned up, we were on his ass like stink on a warthog," that earned a little chuckle from Peter, who was still intently watching as his uncle destroyed drones, "Shades didn't need watching – he was already in our sights and his initiation was brutal."

There was a slight pause as the past came to haunt them. Peter remembered it well. He remembered the searing pain in his arms as he struggled to fight mechanical demons, utilising all his strength just to make sure one didn't come too close to him and he remained on his feet, flanked by safety teams that were hidden behind big metallic doors. All of it felt like the most terrifying battle scene he had ever come across, and that memory made him so sad to think about.

"Your drones are child's play," Loki sighed loud enough for them to hear, "If these are the things you fear most, I believe that you're being melodramatic."

"Really? Let's see how he likes this…"

Steve was too late to stop his director turning up the power. Flying things came out of every metal orifice of the room, armed to the teeth and still equipped with lasers that weren't even legally condoned, yet Loki seemed to take it all in his stride. Green eyes were joyful as he swept the bots away from him with the sceptre, sparking that emerald energy that Peter liked to watch play on his bedroom wall, with the shadow puppets and stories that the God took time to tell.

But the strain was becoming too much, and soon he felt himself beginning to feel tired. Sweat dripped from his pale face whilst the robots showed no signs of stopping, no signs of letting up – he was trapped in the room and fighting for his life, granted he knew that the strain would take him before anything else did.

"It's too much," Steve argued with his leather coated superior, his face almost red with rage, "Let up; that's way too much for him to handle."

Fury didn't seem impressed with his reasoning, "The Avengers handle this sort of thing all the time."

"We work in a team! We'd never be able to do this if it weren't for the team backing us up! Ease off of him!"

"Laufeyson will have to deal with it."

Peter knew that the director could be cruel at times, so it wasn't worrying him that his 'grandfather' seemed to be sentencing his uncle to death. Without thinking the boy's hand went against the black glass, his eyes turning that familiar blood red as the men behind him continued bickering.

The world seemed to be crumbling from Loki's point of view. Nothing existed except the horrifying array of battle-bots equipped with lasers, ugly surveillance eyes like daggers in his own as he tried to collect his thoughts, tried to battle them back. A sweep of his sceptre found a gust of wind to momentarily blind them, yet it wasn't enough time to regain any type of footing. He was well and truly done for.

At least, that's what he thought. Just as one of the robots got close enough to sting his features, they fell from the sky. Loki watched whilst each one seemed to lose their flying capabilities and landed on the floor, smashing so loudly that he was surprised they didn't break a sound barrier, granted he was thankful that they had stopped their relentless attack. With ease he was able to destroy the still soaring ones, though his thoughts turned to who could have been helping him with the task that was supposed to be his. That attitude wasn't one he was used to.

"What the Hell-" Fury turned to see his nephew using his powers, so focused on the scene ahead that he wasn't aware of the glass cracking underneath him. Little fingers crooked themselves and the window itself seemed to freeze over as a gentle hum arose, like the trill of a battle horn that hadn't quite been crafted properly.

Steve, who had been so wrapped up in his bickering that he hadn't noticed Peter, turned to see his son helping Loki. That made him smile. He loved the idea of his little boy doing good for people, even when it seemed like the facilities in charge would only help themselves. It was what made him perfect the Avengers. It was what made him perfect for Earth.

The beads of sweat were there before Peter had finished helping. Wave after wave appeared and yet neither of them let up, still intent to work together. It was only once the final robot had been crushed in Loki's hands that the child relented, eyes shut tight as consciousness slipped away from him. The energy was sapping from his bones. Faintly he heard Steve's voice hush him and felt his hands grasp his small frame, as though he were an angel sent from the Heavens to rock him gently to sleep, assure him that all would be fine and his consciousness would soon return.

"That's it soldier, sleep now," the leader hummed gently whilst he pressed him to his shoulder, face nuzzled deeply in the crook of his neck and tamed tangles of his hair, "You've done great today. It's time you got some sleep. There's my little man."

Loki panted as he stared at the carnage around him, his feet practically buried in broken bot parts and the remains of what looked to be a circuit board. He had seen one briefly when he had picked Peter up for a magic lesson, but never like that. It was far more advanced than the bare bits and bobs he had observed.

"Thank you little one," he muttered under his breath, "You are my saviour."


	87. Following Orders

Peter awoke in a room surrounded by machines, beeping away as he felt sharp things bite into his skin. He had woken up so often that the sight no longer scared him – the only thing that seemed strange was the fact he wasn't with his beloved fathers, their gazes cast over him as they awaited his slumber's end.

"Daddies?" the voice was small and pathetic to the empty white room around him, "Daddies? Uncles? Aunty? Peter scared!"

Silence met his cries. Without thinking the alien pulled the IVs out of his arms, his powers feeling strained as he floated from the bed and inspected his apparent surroundings. It was all white around him; even the corners were painted that immaculate shade, so perfect and pure, yet frustrating when he realised that there was no door that broke the paintjob. He was well and truly trapped.

Loki watched the scene from a little computer screen, furious that SHIELD had demanded an immediate check on Peter's apparent abilities. If the alien hadn't helped him, he wouldn't have been taken from his slumber and fit into that training facility, with hidden cameras located all around so the agents could monitor his actions. Steve sat beside him with muscles rigid, arm looped around the slim waist of Tony as he tried to control his breathing.

"This is ridiculous," the billionaire muttered for the umpteenth time, "This's the single most stupid thing that SHIELD's ever done."

"Don't worry – Pete's gonna pass with flying colours," that came from Clint, who had made his perch in the shadows where he could watch silently, eyes sharp to every movement made on the tiny monitor in front. He wasn't worried about Peter's condition. All that concerned him was the fact he could see sparkling tears in the alien's green eyes, spilling over the thin eyelids like he'd just been betrayed.

Silence fell over the men before Loki found his voice, "For SHIELD's sake, I hope you are correct."

Peter placed his hands against the wall as though he were inspecting it for weaknesses. There was a curious expression on his face whilst the tears fell freely, let loose from the shackles of demeanour in light of no people, and it took him a while to control those emotions. Tony felt his own tears threaten as his hands clasped his husband's arm, silent and unsteady whilst they watched the scene in front of them.

Then he felt it. The slight bump as soft fingers passed over a camera lens, the whirring that was almost inaudible in the silence of the room. It was enough to let him know that his parents weren't too far away and he would soon be reunited with them, not locked up in that white landscape for the rest of his long, lonely life.

"Daddies!" he squealed with his eyes turning that horrifying blood red, so deep that the watching agents felt their veins run icy cold and their skin prickle just looking at them. The machines around him began to rattle before they were suddenly off the ground, and the bed hurtled from its place to smash into the wall beside it. There was fury in his eyes when he ripped the thing apart, hands waving wildly to throw the pieces of metal away from it, growls erupting from his throat as he lost Peter and became Osmostinos.

"The little one is growing too agitated," Loki mentioned in a huff as arms crossed over his chest, eyes piercing through that of Steve's whilst they turned their heads to each other, "You must bring him out."

"SHIELD need the all clear," replied the super soldier sadly, as though he couldn't do anything to save the boy he loved so much. It disgusted Loki to think that those men were the strongest in the world and yet, for some reason, they chose to sit back as someone took advantage of their child, perfectly passive in the light of such frustrations. Only Tony seemed to share his thoughts.

"We're not letting this happen," he was on his feet and heading towards the door, "I'm getting him out. SHIELD can do what they want to me – they're not hurting Pete." Clint's arm shot out in the darkness to grab Tony's shoulder, which instantly stopped the billionaire from flinging open the door.

His voice was calming, trained by many years of interrogations and negotiations, "It's not about hurting him. Just checking where his loyalties lie, if he can keep orders in his head. He won't be hurt."

"You know damn well he follows orders!"

"Of course I do," there was a pause as the tension grew thicker, "But SHIELD doesn't. Fury wanted Loki to complete the training by himself; Pete disobeyed that indirect order by helping him. Crimson Shades has been compromised. He has to prove that he can still be part of the Avengers."

"And if he doesn't?" Steve asked as he rose to his feet, "If he doesn't prove that he can follow orders to SHEILD's level?"

"Well, we'll see," Clint didn't have the heart to tell them that he wouldn't be able to leave the grounds until he had been trained back up to standard, with those standards being exceedingly high and difficult to reach.

More silence moved on as the boy got more and more agitated, eventually losing all of himself to bring the walls crashing down. They weren't made of the same material he saw in the Tower – they were thin, bendable. The orders to halt were ignored at first whilst Fury found himself confronted with the terrified little boy, his heart breaking behind his face of stone.

"Crimson Shades, I need you to stop," his voice was strong and his stance was stronger, "I order you to stop."

"Fury!" screamed the child as he destroyed the high tech equipment around them, glowing energy all around him. It was a horrifying sight. Clint wasn't enough to stop the child's fathers from bursting through the door, but Loki made sure that they were far from harm's way with a wall of green magic.

"Crimson Shades," the voice came again, "I need you to stop. The Avengers need you to stop."

And, with a strangled cry echoing around the room, Peter came back. He came back, and collapsed to the floor.


	88. Hell and the Weakest Link

"Well, if one good thing's come out of this," Bruce muttered as he passed Steve a hospital coffee, "It's that Loki's part of the Avengers."

The super soldier nodded calmly whilst his eyes remained trained on his son, hooked up to beeping monitors and IVs that poured clear liquid into his tiny, pale frame, still shivering from the intense struggle of his powers. It had been a struggle to take Tony from the room; eight straight hours of no moving and very little drinking had left the billionaire more furious than he had ever been, especially when the doctors said his son was showing massive stress-related sickness.

"He feels awful about this whole business," the note was another notch in the scientist's topical discussions, most of which centred around their team and, on the odd occasion he had news to spare, Joanna. But their relationship had been going by uneventfully and the only things on his tongue related to the team, who were plagued by their own problems as the world soldiered on.

"He shouldn't," Steve's voice came as a sigh, sipping cautiously at his boiling hot coffee and noting how it still tasted bland, "It's not his fault, it's SHIELD's. Pete hasn't stopped following orders; he's just got a conscience, that's all. Does that make him a bad person? Does that mean he can't be a functioning part of the Avengers?"

"Of course not – he's a huge part of the team, and you know that."

"Then why does SHIELD insist on these exercises?"

"Because…" he struggled for an explanation that would satisfy the man from time, all the complicated terminology and subtle nuances of the government being compressed in his head when he sighed, "Because they're a secret agency that needs to know all the cogs are turning properly. They needed to be certain Pete would follow orders, even when he's using his powers; he didn't disappoint, did he?"

They silenced when the boy fidgeted in his sleep, the groan from his lips like a stab in each man's heart. Steve's hands instantly went to stroke his face and hush him, assure him it would all be okay and when he woke up he would feel right as rain, back in the arms of his fathers as if nothing had ever happened. That was the moment Loki appeared, almost like he had been summoned by the youngling's cry.

"He is still resting?" the God asked, seating himself in the chair beside the men as he glanced about the monotonous white room, broken only by happy painted monkeys and cartoonish pictures on the walls. It was a private hospital, perhaps, but it still had that air of boredom to it.

After Steve nodded, he was quickly distracted by the slight burn of coffee in his hand. Steam floated aimlessly past his blue eyes whilst they remained rigid on the sleeping boy, silent apart from the occasional fidget, his teeth biting hard on his lip and only eased by Loki's magic.

The God's vengeance was already planned, "I will make SHIELD pay for what they did to him."

"We don't need any more reason for them to go against us," Bruce reasoned without looking at him, "It's hard to accept what they did, but we have to. Clint and Natasha both work for them. Fury's their director. Without SHIELD, we wouldn't have those three as allies."

"They are the weakest links."

"They're our friends, Loki," a sigh erupted from the leader as though he couldn't think straight, like the strain of watching his son sleep was beginning to take its toll, "It's not always about strength and power. Sometimes, it's about sentiment."

Of course, that didn't sit well with the Asgardian-raised God, who had been told so many times that his power depended entirely on the people around him. Odin had once told him that he had to get rid of the ones who pulled him down to their level, because he wasn't meant to pander to them. They were meant to pander to him.

"We cannot risk their continued abuse of Peter. The little one will suffer if we allow SHIELD's interference-"

"They haven't done anything Loki; this is SHIELD's fault, not Clint or Natasha's or Fury's. Well…maybe a little of Fury's," he made a mental note to talk to the director at some point, hopefully to clear up the business of Peter's loyalty and his ability to follow orders, "We can't blame them for their employer's problem. Hey, don't worry about it," only once he looked did he notice the concerned expression on the God's face, mixed so generously with affection that it was almost laughable, "He's a fighter. He's been through Hell and back, so we're not worried that he'll get better. It's just…seeing him like this makes people a bit antsy."

And so silence descended on them again, unbroken even when Tony returned and took his solitary seat in the corner. Four hours passed with their son unmoving until, finally, the dark green eyes opened, spotting the beeping machines before anything else.

A horrifying recollection of past experiences made him choke out, "Daddies?"

"Right here, Pete," Tony soothed before anything else could happen – namely, before the child could think that his fathers had yet again abandoned him and he was back in that terrible room, surrounded by cameras that were hidden in the walls.

"Daddies," a sigh of relief, "Uncles? Aunty?"

"They'll be back later, soldier," Steve's smile was warm as Loki brushed his fingers through the boy's hair, "On a mission. They're all worried about you. We're supposed to give them updates when you're awake."

"Hear them?"

"Not yet; soon, though," Loki was gentle in his words, because he was supposed to be helping the process of moving from unconsciousness to clarity, understanding how terrifying the world could seem after so much time of rest. It was something that he had experienced many times before, mostly in his youth when his magic was unrefined, "You shall see them soon."

"Uncle Loki," his eyes seemed to close as green magic enveloped him for a moment, calming the frayed nerves that were playing on his mind. All went black for that brief second before, suddenly, he was back in the room, with his fathers and two patient uncles watching over him.

"Welcome back, Pete," Bruce smiled softly, "It's been Hell without you."


	89. First Steps

Tony watched his son carefully as he placed cautious steps on the ground, his hands out to steady him and his back arched when he bent over, "Slow down, Pete. Don't overexert yourself."

The boy flashed him an irritated scowl before walking again, as if to tell his father that he hadn't lost his ability to walk in the few days he hadn't. Rumpled white sheets were entwined in Steve's fingers whilst his eyes stayed trained on the scene ahead, his little boy struggling to take shaky steps to the window, his fiancé trying in vain to help him.

"Careful!" that hiss came from the super soldier when Peter stumbled; a mistake that was quickly corrected, albeit accompanied by a heavy sigh and sturdy hands at his sides, "You used a lot of power. You've got to be careful."

"Daddies!" his exasperation was evident to his fathers whilst he brushed Tony's hands away. His eyes glittered that familiar desperation, that need to be free and do as he wanted in his own time, yet it didn't occur to the men to follow it. Peter needed their help. He was only little, after all.

Loki, who had been called away for some important business with Thor, was allowing his mind to trail back to the child and his recovery. He had been there all through it, never leaving his seat unless the matter was urgent, yet it seemed that he would be absent for the most important part of that process. The time in which Peter would remove the soft shackles of his duvet and take his first steps since the incident, unsteady on his feet with that fire in his eyes. The thought made him smile. But then Thor began talking about his magic to the agents in front of them, each one dressed in smart black suits and sporting those garishly noticeable earpieces that they occasionally fiddled with, which brought him to correct each mistake issued as though he had done it so many times before.

Bruce was working in his lab. After two days of quiet guardianship, he had wanted to get back to technology as soon as possible. It was a thrill to have each conical flask in hand, filled to the brim with liquids and chemicals and Lord-knows-what-else which would, in theory, give him the power to do anything. Everything was always so calm in the laboratory. The scientist found it difficult to find anything wrong in those monotonous white walls and black fixtures, fluorescent lights overhead like the manufactured beacons of Heaven.

"You're being so good Pete," the billionaire purred as he steadied his little boy, "Just a few more steps to the window…come on, that's it." Peter's hands were placed on his father's, each footstep accompanied by a little grunt as if he had been in a massive battle, each laboured breath an orchestra of all the fears Steve had for his son. How could Fury expect that child to hold the world?

The super soldier didn't understand the times. He knew that, back in his day, things were no better. He knew that people would kill one another if it meant they could get rich, or that they would kill others if it meant their countries would be the best in the world. It was just always masked by a familiar Uncle Sam; the propaganda stopped him from seeing things in full glory, stopped all of them from knowing what was really going on.

But when he looked into Peter's determined little face, he knew he had all he wanted, "Easy! You're doing it…you're getting closer…" each step took him closer to the window, closer to the light that streamed from outside and introduced him to a world full of possibilities, "Go on Pete…"

And then, success.

With a triumphant yowl the boy grabbed the sill, his smile wider than all of Manhattan as awe-filled eyes looked up at his fathers, those green emeralds like the light at the end of the tunnel. Tony quickly took a picture on whatever smartphone he had at the time before Steve lifted his son up to his shoulder, where he sat like a King and laughed like a child. Small arms looped over Steve's head as he giggled, all too pleased to be free from his bed.

"That's my boy!" the super soldier laughed, "You're such a good little soldier Pete! You made it all the way to the window!" there was more laughter even when Thor and Loki appeared, apparently tired from their discussion with the agents and more interested in seeing what was happening.

The green eyed God was intrigued by the display, his movements laced with curiousity as he gazed at his nephew, "What has happened?"

"What's just happened," Tony repeated with his index finger raised, "is Pete's conquest over the hospital room. He made it from the bed to the window. That counts as an achievement in my book."

"Congratulations, spaceman," Thor tickled the soft chin of his nephew with affection in his eyes, like they hadn't seen each other in weeks, "You are the strongest of us all, it seems." He didn't believe it of course, not when it was he who wielded mighty Mjolnir.

But the innocent look in Peter's eyes was enough to sacrifice a bit of power, "Daddy helped. Peter walk but Daddy helped. Daddy," threatening to topple off of his precarious balance, Steve picked up the little boy and placed him instead in the billionaire's arms, who was smiling his bearded smile, "Daddy help Peter."

"But you were the one who walked, and that is all that matters," Loki pressed a warm hand against the side of his nephew's face, those eyes twinkling as he let his own smile transcend, "You completed your own feat, with Anthony's help or no. It is an impressive one to have under one's belt."

The faint red glow burst in his cheeks before he managed a faint, "Thank Uncle Loki. Peter be better. Peter stronger next time."


	90. Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

"My nephew," Loki purred as he poured more juice in Peter's cup, smiling softly in light of recent events, "You must rest if you are to fully recover. Stop performing tricks."

There was a small smirk on the child's face when he sat back, his hands quick to lower the cup he had been levitating whilst Loki went about placing gentle kisses on his forehead. In front of him was the finest dish of Asgardian food that the God could make – a grand feast of creatures not available on Earth, imported by the noble Thor after a particularly successful hunt and visit to his parents. Each dish he prepared was loving when it went to his nephew, the alien he adored and would readily die for, yet it was starting to spread to his meals for the team.

"Uncle Loki good food," the boy mentioned after a few moments of quiet, "Uncle Loki's food eat lots. Hug?" his arms were stretched out seconds before Loki gave him a soft embrace, so gentle that none would have thought him capable of it, not even Thor. Then again, he never was one for wearing his heart on his sleeve.

Moments of that soft embrace passed and they didn't move, barely breathed for fear of breaking that special bond they shared. So much serenity was in the air; so much and so little at the same time, the world blurring around them as each thing became obscure and clear, important and no matter, something and nothing. They had each other, and nothing would ever break the bond that drove them together.

"Cuddling session?" Bruce's voice drifted from the distance, though not quite enough to make them look up, "Sounds good; all this work is starting to get to me. Do you know when Tony's supposed to be back?" that caused the God to break their hug so he could turn to Banner, the scientist's hair ruffled with lack of sleep whilst he tried to keep up with work.

It had been such an inconvenient turn in events. Tony and Steve, though wishing to stay with their son as he recovered, had been called away on a matter of national urgency and left him in the charge of Bruce and Loki, whilst the others had disappeared with them. It was only the God, the alien and the researcher left in the Tower, wasting the days away with incessant games and the occasional bout of scientific debate.

"He contacted us last night through the telephone. There are three more days to go before they think they will be finished, and that is excluding any time left to interrogation."

"Brilliant. Three more days minimum of doing all his work," there was a sigh on his voice, the sort of sigh that said a lot of that 'work' had needed to be done long before it got to that stage, "He's going to have to Knight me when he gets back. I'm not doing this for nothing."

And the God couldn't help teasing, "Isn't it for the great good of the scientific world? For creating a land in which children such as Peter can flourish, discover and live in harmony?" there was a sharp look of disapproval from Bruce, who had said something similar the night before and had instantly regretted letting that information go.

"You're hilarious."

"I am quite funny," Loki admitted with all that smugness he was known for, "But hilarious…well, that is in the eye of the beholder. Peter," he turned, facing the small child who was chomping into his food, "Do you find me hilarious?" a few seconds were spent wiping boar from his face before he nodded, if only because he greatly appreciated the food and free magic tricks.

"Sarcasm, Loki."

"Truth, Brucey."

Oh, how Banner would wring Tony's neck for telling the God his nickname. He hadn't really liked monster and he didn't much like being called by his last name, but he greatly preferred it to being called 'Brucey' every five minutes. Loki knew that and, by the witchy glint in his glorious green eyes, he loved the way his companion reacted.

Well, he hadn't completely lost his mischievous side…

Hours passed with them in silence, going about their usual activities without so much as muttering to one another. They needed no words; it was calm and serene without them, perfect in their own worlds as they changed the land little by little, their impacts unnoticeable until they all came together. For Loki, he would change people's perception. For Bruce, he would discover things that were once deemed impossible. For Peter…the future wasn't his to know – he faintly recalled his father saying something similar – and he had yet to find out what his impact would be. The only thing he knew was that it would be grand, no matter what the people around him thought or saw.

"Little one," he was pulled from his daze, dropping the blocks that hung in the air as his green eyed uncle approached him, "We must go to the conference room. Your father has an urgent video call for you."

The sadness in his voice was enough to set anyone on edge. Bruce followed soon after to lift his young nephew, as though they were all in it together and the walk was one of the hardest things he would ever have to go through, but none of that mattered when Peter's mind whirled on what was happening. Neither of them were in uniform. Nothing was out of place, and that surely meant that everything would be okay.

The hologram in the conference room was large, transparently blue and at one time, the most high tech thing that Howard Stark had ever designed. Peter understood him to be a great man that had reached beyond the stars, but not much more than that. It was his father who stood in that blue glow, eyes red and words a quiver on his lips.

"Pete…"

"Daddy?"

Tony couldn't stand the happiness in his son's voice. He couldn't stand the way he bounded into his vision and smiled softly, like everything was okay and he wasn't sitting in the burning wreckage of what had been their hideout. Everything was ruined. Everything was destroyed and burnt and he couldn't do anything about it.

"Pete…something's happened," he choked out before a strangled cry erupted from him. A mere few seconds later, Fury appeared, hand clasped tightly over the billionaire's shoulder as if to steady him.

"Peter…I don't quite know how to tell you this…" the air of melancholy was suffocating, "It's about…the Captain."

"Captain Daddy? Where Captain Daddy?" and just like that, the frown appeared. Peter's innocence at that moment had vanished for each man watching him, replaced by intense realisation that could have struck the bravest fools down. Loki wrapped his arms around him despite the choked cry in his throat, needing to be shed eventually or it would break him.

"He's…he's…"

Tony's voice returned, "He's been taken, Pete."


	91. Shoot Down

Loki leaned back in the leather chair of Tony's jet, rocking the quiet Peter on his lap as their companion went through various procedures. He asked them questions, discussed meeting times with them and tried beyond everything to get their nephew to react, though he was inconsolable and wouldn't speak to anyone.

It broke the God's heart. Bits and pieces of the organ scattered about in his blood as he looked upon that soft face, the features he had grown to love and the gorgeous green eyes that were so vibrant, suddenly dulled with the thought of his father's kidnap. No one would be happy until Steve was returned to them, especially not the two people that were most dependent on him.

"All will be well," he whispered into the boy's pale ear, since all the colour had drained from his face some time before, "You will see. Once we have reunited with my brother and our friends, we shall save the Captain."

"Safe?" came the soft whisper that could break a lesser man. It was close to destroying Loki when he gently pulled the boy back, their eyes locked together as the possibilities mounted in his head. Surely the Captain would be safe? He represented America, and his strength was that of a hundred soldiers. There wasn't any possible way he would be hurt, unable to defend himself against the extremists and their Hellish attacks.

"I am not sure, little one," his voice was quiet but honest, "It depends entirely on the Captain and his strength. But he has you to return to, and Anthony, and I am sure he would not risk the family that you three have created."

Bruce had overheard their conversation whilst he scoured through the sheets, and his heart was breaking at the thought of Tony's anguish. It was no secret that the billionaire adored Steve and would do anything for him, which was huge for someone who once said they would never love anyone, though their work often made him wary. How would he react now that his worst fears had been realised? How would he accept his relationship when something like that had happened, with his fiancé being stolen away from him and perhaps killed?

But the scientist simply leaned over and pressed a gentle hand to his cheek, "It'll be okay, Pete. We're going to go and find Captain Daddy. He'll be okay without us for a while, won't he?" those soft glimmering eyes looked at him with hope. It was a hope that only a child could have, innocent and pure and uncorrupted by the world's realities, but it was a hope that gave them some satisfaction. Peter would be safe no matter what, and that's what Steve would have wanted.

Darkness surrounded the super soldier. He felt soft fabric scraping at his eyes whilst his hands were tied behind him, knees aching from being thrust upon them and his back stiffer than an iron rod. Fleeting thoughts of Tony kept him barely alive, accompanied by Peter when he thought it was appropriate though he didn't want to be thinking about him; he was too innocent for that place. It reeked of booze, sweat and blood, all familiar to the soldier from his brief stays overseas and the occasional visit to war barracks.

"What do you want?" there was an unknown language floating around him, spoken by gruff voices that seemed muffled. Despite the government's belief that Al-Qaeda was the most intense threat to him, Steve didn't recognise those men as Arabic. The language was different. Too different.

"Shut up."

"That's no way to talk to the guest, is it?" a chuckle. A chuckle in light of what was going on – they had a super soldier tied up with unbreakable knots and the plans of the future in front of them, yet they couldn't do anything but laugh. The Avengers' would probably die if they could see their friend, broken and bloody, his golden hair matted by dirt and sweat.

"Who are you?" his voice hadn't lost any of its lustre. Still the authority came through, as though his appearance did nothing for what made him the Captain and it was truly what lay within him, the courage he had been born with. Slowly, they opened up the file that sat on the rickety table in front of them, revealing a face covered by a hood and the glowing red eyes that they had been searching for.

"Captain America – Steve Rogers?"

A moment of hesitation, "Affirmative."

"Fiancé to Anthony Stark?"

"What's he got to do with any of this?!" the soldier was infuriated by the mention of his beloved, enough to struggle momentarily against his restraints and then fall silent again. He wouldn't answer questions about Tony. He wouldn't put his family in such danger.

"Nothing, nothing," the gentle voice did nothing to assure him, "Father to Peter Stark-Rogers…Crimson Shades?"

"That's none of your business. Leave him alone."

An insufferable grin stretched over the weathered features, hidden by a cloak that was stitched from scraps and barely illuminated by the one light above them. If Steve could see that smile, he would have attacked the man on sight. Then again, he couldn't see it, and so he remained on his knees waiting for the reply.

"Oh, but it is our business," he replied menacingly, "The Avengers are in the way. We've been watching you, Steven – don't you think you've made enemies? Hurt people? Well, now it's our turn."

The sound of clicks erupted, which made Steve ever more fearful to speak, "And just how do you think you'll hurt us?"

"Sir," a voice interrupted, "We've located the jet. It's flying into base."

"Perfect. Do you love your son, Steven?"

There was silence for a moment. It was an agonising moment in which the super soldier thought about lying, about being dishonest, though it didn't work, "Yes. I love him with all my heart."

"Good," footsteps, "Shoot it down, boys."


	92. Before They

Whatever had happened, Loki hadn't let go of Peter. He still clung to him as they hurtled through the sky, the jet's burning shell falling all about them as Bruce, now the massive green creature that the God had once had nightmares about, wrapped himself around the two bodies like they were precious jewels.

"Hush, little one," he comforted even though he didn't know what was happening, his ears still ringing from the screech of the explosion, "There is no need for tears. I am here. Bruce is here. We will protect you." Instantly the child settled, head thrust on his uncle's chest whilst they continued their descent to the sea, where they would unfurl in the green waters and find some way to land.

It was some time before they hit earth, and it took longer for Hulk to find some land that they could swim to and set up a suitable camp. Burning shattered jet-pieces fell in the ocean as they swam, as though reminding them how close they had come to death.

"Who dared attack us?" Loki whispered to the green beast when they reached the island. It was beautiful; great palm trees swayed in the breeze and scattered small coconuts everywhere, a huge mountain casting shadows over them as they tried to gain a sense of where they were. It was easier for the God – he could have just vanished and reappeared wherever he wanted, no need to worry about where he had been or what he could have done there, but he had Peter to think about. There would be no quick fix to his situation.

"I…I don't know…" Bruce's gasping reply was accompanied by a transformation, his massive green form slowly morphing back to the soft tanned skin that was his native frame, human figure more comforting to the two people he found himself with.

"Do they not know we had a child with us?! Did they intend to kill us all?" the God was a killer himself, yet he couldn't understand how someone would go out to willingly kill his precious Peter. Two arms gripped tighter as Loki looked into Bruce's brown eyes, spare clothes thankfully equipped behind a bush that was placed conveniently near them.

"Some people just don't care," the scientist replied as he struggled with the shirt buttons, "They must be the same people that kidnapped Steve. That'd make the most sense."

"They already have the Captain. Why would they want to further harm the team?" soft lips kissed the cold forehead of his nephew, still trembling in his arms like he would never stop, "There is nothing to gain from harming the little one."

"Unless…" of course it would be Bruce who figured out things. It was actually good that he had chosen to stay behind, since Loki would find himself lost without the scientist and his calming aura.

Silence hung in the air as Banner finished buckling his belt, his face set in a thoughtful expression whilst he pondered on the evidence. First, Steve had been kidnapped, and their base of operations had been destroyed. Evidence had been stolen to the point where they couldn't find their files, much less anything that might detail their weaknesses or personal relationships. That had been more worrying than anything else.

Now, their plane lay in burning bits all around them, as though someone had deliberately set out to obliterate everyone on board. And one of the files stolen had said they were in the Tower for that assignment…

"Someone wanted to kill us."

"I'm not surprised. The Avengers have made many enemies."

"No," Bruce waved a hand to silence the otherwise chattering God, who still held their quivering nephew in arm. "They wanted to kill _us. _You, me and Pete. There was no else on board except us, and the files stolen said that we were the only ones absent from the mission. How else would they get us from the Tower to active duty? Kidnap one of our own. The Captain's a cover up."

Again, Loki was forced to wonder at the researcher's intelligence. He knew that Bruce had to be smart to gain what the Midgardians called a PhD, but the level of his intellect sometimes astounded the man. With each conversation more was revealed, each little factual piece or trivial mention like a punch in the face to the God who once thought all Earthlings were stupid.

Foolish, but not stupid.

"What must we do?" he asked with arms still clasped tightly over Peter. He was on his knees by that point, balancing the child on his lap as his toes dug into the golden sand below them, and only one fleeting thought was spared for his garb before it was discarded. Rocking motions were set to calm him, but Loki didn't have the smell or authority that his Captain possessed. Peter wanted his Daddies. Nothing would be right until they were returned to him.

"First, we find out where we are," the scientist fell into the natural leadership role despite his ruffled hair, "Then, we find out who shot our plane. After we've done that…" a dramatic pause made Loki more aware of the glint in his eye, the ruffled hair that sat like a forest atop his head, "Well, I won't be responsible for what happens to them."

That made the God smirk, "And what of your forgiveness? Mercy for all, Doctor Banner?"

"That was before they tried to kill my nephew."


	93. Back from the Dead

That night brought with it a blistering wind, one that would freeze Loki's bones if it weren't for the muscle surrounding them. He clung to his little Peter with a fierce determination in his heart, a promise to Steve before he left that no matter what befell them, his son would be safe, protected without hesitation if the worst came to the worst.

They had constructed a shelter using the God's magic and Bruce's know-how, though it was actually the child who found their materials. Great palm tree leaves made up the roof, tied together with twine and twigs that had remarkable flexibility, whilst the walls of their makeshift cabin came from both bamboo and discarded tree bark. Coconuts lined the bottom like a decorative border – Loki had lied and claimed that it would keep the water out should the tide come in, when in reality he simply liked the aesthetic appeal. Peter whined as the gnawing hunger attacked his stomach, hands tugging through his obsidian haired uncle's shirt in an effort to convey himself.

"He's hungry," Bruce informed them, as if it wasn't obvious, "We better get him some food. What's good to eat on an uncharted island?" that earned him a small smile from the God of Mischief, though not one that was there for long.

"I would have hoped for something more filling than berries. All we seemed to have come across are fruits," the sigh that came from him was low, like he didn't want to be feeding his nephew something potentially poisonous. Great bananas hung from trees further in the forest, seen out of the corner of his eye after a quick scout about the place, whereas down the path rested the most sizable coconuts he had ever seen in his life…not that he had seen a lot of coconuts. Perhaps they would be enough to sate the small boy?

But the frown across Peter's face was enough to tell them otherwise, "Not hungry. Peter okay. Need sleep." He nuzzled further into the warm shoulder of his uncle, who simply sat there like the pillow he was being used as. It was enough to know that his little bundle was comfortable with him for the cold to be staved off, if only for a moment before it invaded the warmth of his heart again.

Bruce liked watching the scene in front of him. Above the flickering campfire they sat around, it was hard to imagine that they were in such a tough situation. If it weren't for the low supplies and the small reservations of water, many could've sworn that they were on a camping trip together, off to scour unknown lands in case they hid something interesting. Memories had yet to be created on that untouched paradise, and it seemed like they would be the first people to do so.

"We'd better get to work on looking for life tomorrow," he said softly once he was sure Peter had fallen asleep, his breathing even against Loki's green shoulder, "Maybe there's a tribe living in the forest?"

"I have read short stories about your tribes. I do not think letting the little one so close to them is a good idea."

"Which tribes?"

"The ones that ate people."

"Well, that's only a problem for me. Maybe they don't like the taste of Gods and aliens so much?"

Another insufferable smile meant that Bruce had won Loki over, and that was enough to make anyone feel proud. Of course, the scientist wouldn't gloat, unlike some that he consorted with, so he just fell to the sand underneath him and let the air hang. It was a quiet victory. It was the sort of victory that the God often enjoyed back on Asgard, locked away in his room when he had outwitted Thor or helped his father in matters of diplomacy.

Steve struggled against his restraints. There was silence all around him if not for soft chortles, little tell-tale signs of life such as the scuffling of a messenger or the soft breathing of a man who smoked. Sweat trickled down him as his knees throbbed from staying on them so long, burnt from the dirt that he knew he rested on, mind reeling as he thought of his fiancé and little boy.

The leader – or what he assumed to be the leader by the way he spoke – had fired something at some sort of jet, and later told Steve that it had contained Bruce, Loki and his son. Peter was declared dead on impact whereas the other two were seen swimming away, the little boy either not with them or hidden from sight. By their calculations, he was too young to have survived the initial blast.

But Steve knew better. He knew that the men would have saved Peter long before they had saved themselves, if the child needed it. The attack may have come as a surprise, yet that didn't mean that they weren't prepared for it. All that worried the super soldier was the fact the leader had then vanished, cackling to himself that he was off to send word that Peter had been killed. Tony wouldn't be as collected as Steve had been. He would have shattered under the weight of that knowledge, his mind deteriorating without the soldier's calming arms or the little boy that always made him think straight, always made things come into light.

"Doesn't it bother you that your son's dead?" that soft voice belonged to a woman, perhaps the only one that sympathised with Steve. In that dingy room covered in soot and dust, the only modern touch being an old desktop that sat in the corner and ran with complicated codes, she had watched the plane being shot and the survivors scattering through the sky. She didn't want to think about the innocent life her boss had just ended.

Steve smirked, "You don't know my team."

"He's been killed. There's no two ways about it."

"He's been killed before," the memory made him want to cry, "He'll come back, and he'd probably forgive you all for what you've done. Loki and Bruce, though? You'll all have to run when they get their hands on you."


	94. Do Not Test me

"There are no shortcuts or ways around it. We must go through the forest if we are to find our way out," Loki sighed when he returned from his patrol, arms laden with ugly bent twigs that were supposed to fix what had blown off during the night. Their little nephew was enjoying a cracked open watermelon that Bruce had stumbled on by chance, though neither of them told him that it could have possibly been the food of a mothering animal.

They didn't need him to run back and return it…

"Brilliant," Bruce had been struggling with the repairs with the equipment he had available and he could have done with some good news, granted he knew that would come much later. Nothing would go right until they were off that damned island.

With a finger and thumb pressed into his eyes, the scientist wondered how his life had taken such a strange turn. Not five days ago he had been trying to alter JARVIS's command system to play pop music, and suddenly he found himself on an uncharted slice of Hell with a God and an alien. It was like a bad premise to an even worse movie. Hours could have passed in the laboratory without him noticing but there, underneath the weak sunlight that barely filtered through charcoal black clouds, seconds seemed like eternity.

"We must make an attempt to walk through it," Loki said as he pressed a warm hand to Peter's cheek, smiling down when he saw them covered in red juice and a few black seeds, "If we are to escape this island, we must go through the forest. I believe there should be a place near the mountainside in which we can signal for help."

An icy breeze fell over them whilst Loki barely noticed it, too absorbed in the gentle face of his nephew and the sticky juice that inflicted his face. The only tell-tale sign that he even felt the cold were the little goose-bumps on his skin, the pale surface occasionally interrupted by the faintest raise, his breathing somewhat hitching before he nuzzled softly into Peter's hair.

"That's fine. I guess we can do that," Bruce's face was busy looking over his plans, drawn in the sand underneath him and protected by little shingle walls, each one decorated as Loki so rigidly insisted. Who knew the God adored colour so much?

"We must if we are to protect the little one and ensure his safety."

"You're really taking this promise to the extreme, aren't you?"

"When an Asgardian gives his word, it is a binding verbal contract. We follow it to the letter. That is why I was always so careful when I made mine, as I needed to be sure there were loopholes in which I could exploit them."

"I just thought you wanted to look after our little man."

"…That may be a factor, yes," more tightened squeezes whilst Peter finished off his food, making sure there were still a few bites available for his beloved uncles. He knew deep down they were starving but out of their love for him, they had told him they weren't. The watermelon would just have to go around.

Bruce let a smug smile erupt on his face, "You're getting softer by the day."

"Do not test me, Banner," came the warning growl as they stood up, ready to make their way through the forest and its deadly plants, "I will make sure you regret those comments."

"Ooo, I'm terrified."

"So you should be."


	95. The Snake in the Room

The dark hole around them was like a prison. For Steve it was a literal one, what with the soldier being restrained and forced to sit on his knees, back straighter than the flagpole whilst his eyes were kept blindfolded. However he didn't count on another prison near him, sporting a dark red hairdo and puffy red lips to compliment her slender frame, bright blue eyes like daggers as she scanned the dingy room she was forced to stay in.

She felt sorry for the super soldier in front of her, unable to rest for even a second due to her employer's unfathomable hatred. There were questions on her lips that remained unspoken, questions that trailed to Steve's home and family and the life he led when he wasn't being Captain America, the pinnacle of all that was righteous and good. The blonde hair was matted with the sweat he was pouring, the effort to sit upright starting to take its tool as his mind thought on his son.

How could he remain so calm? When faced with the idea that his lover had watched him being taken, quite possibly thinking that his time was up and the next time he looked upon those features, Steve would be dead, the warm glow of his cheeks dulled to a gut wrenching greyness as Tony's fingers curled in his hair, he hadn't even reacted. When her boss had cackled over him after shooting the black jet from its voyage, describing the burning pieces as they fell to a watery grave and his friends following just seconds later, Steve hadn't flinched. It was only when they muttered young Crimson Shade's name that the soldier actually did something, granted that was only to huff out a laugh.

Of course Peter would be back, and with a vengeance as well. It wasn't his soft faced little angel that would attack those people – no, he was too merciful – but Steve couldn't deny that his beloved would definitely want some payback, especially when he discovered that they had intended to kill his son and perhaps even his fiancé.

"Why don't you care?" was the question she finally uttered, a hand pressed lazily against her cheek with the elbow on the table, which swayed to and fro depending on her angle. For a moment all was silent and she decided that he wasn't going to answer her, when finally he growled.

"I do."

She moved from her perch, "You don't seem to. You've just been told that your son's dead, and you're not even upset." Steve allowed one of those rare smiles to flicker over his face, the ones that were smug and barely hid his amusement.

"I've been told he's dead before. I've never once lost him." In the past they had thought they lost him many times, even when it was a routine mission with routine outcomes. On scouting patrols with the earpieces, if there was even the slightest malfunction, Tony would have been on support so quickly that Steve thought a small tornado had passed him, papers scattering everywhere as the billionaire charged through SHIELD or wherever they happened to be. Many times they were told the earpiece had been destroyed, not interrupted. Many times they had been wrong. Peter could handle himself.

Besides, he had two amazing uncles with him. They had promised him that their soldier would be safe and if anyone would ensure that, it would be those two. Steve wasn't worried. He couldn't be.

Quickly the Captain's voice came back, cold and confident where Steve's was timid, "I want to know what you think you're achieving. Threatening my family won't get you anything but trouble." A hand traced across his shoulders, covered by the stretched rubbery fabric that was his suit but still welcoming of the touch. His blindfold was beginning to make him feel like a lame man, as though he were back in his pre-serum body and there was nothing he could do about it.

"I'm not sure; it's top secret," her voice was soft, almost apologetic as she parted with her useless knowledge, about as helpful to Steve in that situation as a banana would be in Tony's lab, "Need to know basis with people he trusts. I've not got any information on it."

Again he could barely supress his smirk, "So you're just his secretary?"

"I'm not his secretary. I hack the smaller databases that he needs. When he wants files and he doesn't have them, it's up to me to find out where they are."

Steve's shoulders rose. Instantly he felt a sudden anger for that woman touching him, with the sickly sweet voice and the slender hands that were still caressing his shoulders, apparently the sole reason for how they had found out about Peter. If it weren't for her hacking skills, they would've never discovered that his son wasn't with them. They would have thought Crimson Shades was working on the field, tucked away somewhere in some remote bunker on an even more remote island as they searched for something irrelevant. It would've been better if they had believed he was away.

"You've endangered my son!" he spat with the venom of ten men, muscles tightened underneath his skin whilst he struggled at the restraints, "You're the reason they knew about the plane!"

Her plump lips were curved in a smile before she dived for his blindfold. With one quick wrist flick Steve could see, his eyes quick to scan the dingy hole around him and take in the circular table, the computer that looked older than his laptop and the single hanging light-bulb, ground covered in dirt that was surely staining his suit. She wasn't in his sight, hiding behind him like she feared the piercing blue gaze, but he didn't bother turning his head around. He didn't want to waste his energy on someone like her.

"You've endangered a perfectly innocent little boy," he regained his composure just a moment too late. It was a deadly mistake; that woman he was talking to was rather like Romanoff, with a knack for seeing past the guises people wore and the fronts they liked to put up. She had done so with Loki.

For this woman, she'd see the Captain fall.

"I thought you said you weren't worried?"


	96. Through the Forest

Loki had stumbled on an old worn path some time after they entered the forest, opting to use that instead of stumbling over tree tendrils and the overgrown bushes. He felt a smug smile fall on his sharp features when Bruce praised him, as if he felt some sort of juvenile pride at his companion's words instead of just satisfaction that he, Loki, God of Mischief, had found it and not the scientist.

A squirming Peter was held tightly to the researcher's chest as they trundled through the undergrowth. Being so young he saw the forest as an unexplored canvas, a place that he had yet to go through and sort into tidy organised boxes that the Captain loved and at the same time hated, because they were everything that represented what was wrong with society. Checklists, criteria, putting things into black and white labels; it was so simple that Steve couldn't help but love it and, still, a little part of him nagged that it was wrong.

Thoughts of his father made the child still, his head resting against Bruce's shoulder whilst he recalled the soldier's face. The way he laughed, the way he held his son tightly against his side when they read a bedtime story, and the ways in which his parenting styles contrasted with that of the billionaire's. All those little details made Peter more determined that he'd bring his father home, back into the arms of his beloved and at the helm of his precious team.

"It's okay," Bruce shushed his unshed tears by stroking his soft hair, Loki careful to add some soothing faces of his own as they wandered the worn pathway, "We'll be out of here soon."

"Captain Daddy…"

"We shall find him, little one," the words came from Loki whilst he traced Peter's soft face, careful not to jab his eyes and make the threatening teardrops fall, "It is just a matter of leaving this forest and finding him. There is no need to fear for us, little one. We are safe."

Peter seemed to brighten at his words, though the dulled dark look in his eyes never disappeared. It remained as they dodged past tarantulas and great winged things, each one with fangs larger than all of Manhattan, predetermined beelines for either the God's eye or his companion's nostrils. The creatures of Midgard were distasteful at best.

The silence that rose between them was comfortable. Unlike Thor, Bruce didn't feel the need to fill it with needless small talk and the occasional gloat about his recent hunts, which Loki didn't think the scientist even went on. He held an air of sophistication about him that implied hunts weren't necessary, that he'd rather order his food over computers than step out onto a plain and fight for it. It was all so new to Loki that he didn't know if he liked it. It certainly made eating a much more relaxing chore to go about.

But soon enough, the God felt they were just going in circles, "We must have passed that tree at least eight times now, and many more should we continue along this path!"

"Calm down Loki; we'll get to the mountainside," the tree tops were too thick to see through, what with their overhanging branches and the huge flat palm leaves that just sat there, wide and enveloping every inch of sunlight from them. An actual shiver crept along the half-man half-monster's spine, his grip tightening just a little bit over his nephew's form.

"At least give me the little one," he sighed, "You have carried him over each plant and I feel my arms grow restless."

"I'm fine with him."

"When my arms are restless, trickery becomes ever more tempting…"

"Take him," Bruce turned to immediately hand his nephew over, knowing just how 'innocent' that trickery could be and how much it could destroy the forest that sat around them, "He's a little sleepy. He might nod off if we carry on."

"That is no problem," Loki nuzzled warmly into the child's neck and wrapped him in a tight hug, relishing the warmth that rose from the crook of it as Peter hummed contentedly, sleep-deprived in an effort to stay awake, "Hello little one. Are you weary?"

"Uncle Loki…Captain Daddy…"

"Hush, child," he smiled through the curls that surrounded his nose, "We shall have him soon."


	97. The Wandering

"You really should be careful of the animals," Bruce was saying as he bandaged his friend's hand up, two fang-shaped holes embedded in one of his fingers and a small smirk on the scientist's face. If he hadn't had been so thankful that Loki was carrying Peter and, without really thinking about his actions, had raised his hand to block an impending spider bite, he would have made a joke about the God being a human pin cushion.

"It was not so painful," he lied through gritted teeth, sweat pouring from his features whilst his body struggled against the poison, "I would do it again if it meant Peter was safe."

The child snored lazily against a huge boulder, one that broke through the ground and stretched to reach the treetops, where they had put him to tend to Loki's wounds. His head lolled almost bonelessly to the side whilst the world blurred into his dreams, becoming as pointless as chocolate teacups as he went further and further into the fabrics of his mind.

"Do you think we will be at the mountainside soon?"

The question made Bruce look up, wondering if he should tell the God he didn't actually know where they were and it was quite possible they weren't anywhere near the mountainside. He saw the hope in those witchy green eyes, the trust that Banner would lead them through that wild forest so they could rescue Peter, no matter what challenges arose on the way. It was that which made him sigh.

"I don't know," his admission was quiet, "It could be miles away or behind those trees. We've been wandering in circles, I think; everything looks the same in this place."

Bracing himself for a fierce reprimanding, the scientist looked up to gaze into Loki's eyes. Shock reeled through him when he saw acceptance in those green depths, like they weren't lost in some unknown place on God's-end-nowhere and he'd simply woken up to no milk in the fridge. His sharp features were softer as he smiled, details rising as they stretched to accommodate the grin.

"Then we must be careful not to go the wrong way," he mused with a glance about them, extracting his hand from Bruce's so he could inspect the makeshift gauze, "We do not want to lose ourselves further. Steve is counting on our rescue."

The scientist's eyes widened. It hadn't been often that Loki referred to the Captain by his first name – he called him Rogers to both infuriate him and put distance between them, but why remained a mystery – and the fact that he said it so easily now surprised his companion. There was gratitude when he looked back at Bruce, thanking him quietly for the quick bandaging of his hand and the fact he hadn't made fun of the incident.

He waved his hand airily as he rose to his feet, "No problem; you did it to protect Pete. Can't really make fun of you when you did it for noble reasons."

"Thor would have found some way; he and his friends did not take too kindly to mistakes, particularly mistakes that showed weakness. It was a sad state of affairs when they made the errors."

His eyes became distant as he fell into the memories of his childhood, lies upon lies that made up the illusion of happiness and the constant feeling that he'd never live up to Thor's example, what with his guaranteed Kingship and his terrifying strength. The thoughts were a cyclone even when he picked Peter back up, the child's head pressed warmly to his shoulder to rid his mind of the past.

He was never going to be in that situation again. That's what he told himself; Thor hadn't yet outshined him when it came to Earth, and it seemed that SHIELD was far more interested in his magic than the sheer brawn of his brother. Perhaps Midgard had evolved past his expectations? Perhaps the humans enjoyed trickery more than brute strength, enjoying the subtleties that came with such a delicate art?

"You're valued just as much as Thor is," Bruce dared to say once he had plucked the courage up, some time after they started walking through the shaded pathway. Great trees bent and twisted at their roots as though they were in agony, the leaves like canopies whilst they continued down a road worn by a thousand feet, hundreds of men that they'd never know and never meet. Loki clung to Peter ever more tightly, fearful that those elusive tribesmen would jump out and try to steal his precious nephew away.

"I know," replied the God, which was only a small lie, "He was a strong warrior on Asgard and he is such on Midgard, though we are all strong warriors here. The standards are not very high."

Bruce smiled as he stepped over another tendril, "We're just grateful of all the help we get. When someone's in the firing line, we don't think about what they can and can't do. We just think that they're using their powers to help us at that moment, risking their lives so others don't have to, and we're grateful to them."

"That seems…"

It made sense to Loki, but he didn't want to admit it. He didn't want to think that he was becoming warm to the idea of protecting Midgard and getting praise for it, when in Asgard he got none. Without thinking he clutched Peter harder, their footsteps quickening whilst the world around them faded into the distance – two aliens from across the stars finding their place on Earth, where the people were primitive and the culture unrefined but, somehow, still more welcoming than other races they had seen.

"Loki…"

Bruce fell silent when the trees suddenly collapsed. In front of them stood the steepest hill they had ever seen, stretching far off into the sky and becoming more jagged with every centimetre, the tip of the mountain disappearing into thick white clouds that seemed unreachable. Loki's breath hitched once as Bruce looked up, a sudden wish in his heart that he had taken up rock climbing.

"Banner," he turned to the God's voice, sure and certain despite their predicament, "You must turn into the green creature and put us both on your back. Only the Hulk can scale this; we cannot expect Peter to."

The scientist nodded, as though he had been thinking the same thing and the worry for his nephew had crossed his own mind. He didn't like the idea of becoming Hulk again – the clothes he wore were his last pair, and 'going native' wasn't really on his agenda – but for the little bundle in Loki's arms, just waking up to the sound of his uncle's voices, he would do anything.

But a little voice stopped him, "Wait, Uncle Bruce!"


	98. Picture Picture in My Hand

Tony cradled a picture to his chest. It was his most treasured possession; it had been the one thing he always made sure he packed, and the one thing that brought a smile to his face when it felt like the whole world was caving in on them.

Around him lay the ruins of what used to be a hideout; a burnt building that had chars running up the wall, destroyed bits of furniture here and there that he had once sat in and shared a hearty laugh with his teammates. They had reminisced together about Christmas, times when they were actually having fun without the need for some terrorist organisation, but those memories seemed far off as he clutched the picture closer, praying that his world hadn't been destroyed.

Two of his friends – his family – were missing. Steve was gone. Peter's status had been updated to deceased. Everything was collapsing into itself and Tony was caught in the middle, being swallowed by the flames of Hell whilst people tried to continue. What mattered was the mission. What mattered was saving the thousands, perhaps millions of lives that were hanging in the balance from a deadly fate. What mattered to Tony was that his precious family still breathed, still lived and walked and had a future in his arms.

"Tony," Clint breathed when he walked into the room, through a doorway that had been beaten into irregularity and carrying a top secret dossier in his hands, "Are you okay?" it was a stupid question. The billionaire wouldn't have looked any worse if he'd gone eighteen rounds with Mike Tyson, the only things protecting him being gloves and a makeshift tongue guard.

The picture was gripped tighter by calloused fingers as he looked up, "I'm fine. I'll…I'll be okay when we find him."

"We're still looking. Steve's a big guy; he'll be okay until we get hold of him," Clint offered words of comfort, words that were meant to be taken to heart but, as with everything that Tony didn't believe, weren't.

"If he could fight back, he'd already be here," the sigh was an admittance of defeat that could've broken the hardest of men, "Don't act like he's going to kick ass and get here by himself. He's being held somewhere. Somewhere…"

The dossier was thrown on the table whilst Clint took his own place; a chair that was placed closely to the door and provided the best place for swift reactions, should they ever find themselves infiltrated. Tony carefully opened it, knowing exactly what documents it contained and why he would be given it, the arc reactor whirring harder in his chest as his fingers desperately clutched the picture.

**CRIMSON SHADES – STATUS; DECEASED. K.I.A; PLANE CRASH. BODY NEVER RECOVERED.**

Tears threatened when he saw the official picture of his little boy. His soft features hidden by a garish mask, it wasn't as intimate as the one he held so tightly, the one that showed Peter and Steve lying together on a sofa in the Tower with eyes shut, arms locked around one another so they could find protection. It wasn't the type of picture that he would display in the foyer for all his guests to see. But still, that was Peter. And it was saying he was dead.

"What's this for?"

"You've got to sign it off," the archer said as softly as he could, which wasn't very, "Rest of the team's got to as well, but I thought…well…we all thought…" he trailed off with a helpless look on his face, because nothing would ever make that discussion easy. Tony was in such pain that he probably wasn't thinking about all the legal implications, all the documents and files with Crimson Shades' logo that needed to be signed and sent off.

"Sign it off…" Stark's voice was low when he thought about his son. Steve had the chance to be recovered, but it seemed that everyone had given up on little Peter. Nothing made sense. Everything became a blur to him as he scrambled for his pen, the tears in his eyes like a waterfall that didn't cascade and the burn in his heart like a Hell that didn't break through.

"You don't have to-"

"Better if I get it over with," the billionaire cut him off when he found a pen in his breast pocket, "Don't want Steve having to deal with it – he's just been kidnapped. When he gets back he's not going to want…want to remember…" his voice faltered for that brief moment, just enough time to make him seem human. Why had he left little Peter behind? "Where's the line? Help me out here Clint; I can't see a damn thing."

An expert hand had the pen away from Tony, "That's because you're trying to sign it when you're crying."

"I'm not crying."

"Eyes like a hawk, remember?"

"It's not crying," his lies weren't even believable to himself. It was his son that was supposed to be dead; he had told him not a few days before that they would be back soon, that they would all go to the park and enjoy that game of football that Steve had moaned about for a while. The memory worsened his state. Soon enough he was rubbing his fingers into his eyes, cursing himself for the insufferable tears that attacked them.

"Sure," Clint took the dossier from him before he could make any attempt at signing it, "Look…we'll talk about this later. Hell, we don't even know if Pete's really dead. What; Bruce and Loki's with him, and somehow he dies? Doesn't seem possible to me. They'd never let him get hurt."

He couldn't help but reply, "Yeah, because a surprise plane crash doesn't take that power."

"Plane crash? Please – that was an attack. We'll find the guys who did this, but first we've got to find Bruce and Loki. I know they've got Pete, Tony. It's weird, but I know."

That earned him a sort of helpless grin. It was the grin people wore when they were allowing a little bit of hope to flutter, a little bit of the bleakness chipped from his mood so he could concentrate on the plans.

"How can you be sure?" he asked as the archer got up, seconds away from disappearing out the door. "How can you be sure that he's alive?"

They spared a little tight lipped smile at each other, "Because I'm not his dad."


	99. Exertion

Steve had his eyes covered.

Peter couldn't see.

Tony was crying.

Peter couldn't breathe.

Clint cleaned his bow.

Peter couldn't feel.

Fury listened closely.

Peter couldn't hear.

Natasha held face.

Peter couldn't know.

He had been separated, but he still felt them. He felt them resonating with all the hurt in their hearts, knew that they were wandering the depths of their imagination for reasons why he was still alive. A kindly hand took his as the world around him faded into obscurity, replaced by the stars and planets that he couldn't name and didn't want to, having zoomed past them before on a centuries-long journey.

"Little one," Loki pressed a tear stained face against his nephew's black locks, dangerously close to the edge of the mountain whilst Bruce attempted chest compressions, "Wake up, little one. You must wake up." There was desperation in his voice; that intense need for the child to open his glittering green eyes and look at them, tell them he was okay. Just as quickly as it had come together the God's world was breaking, the fragments scattered around all the Nine Realms whilst all he could do was hold that little hand. It was so cold. He was so scared.

"Tony," Clint roused the billionaire from his pit of self-pity once more, face contorted in a frown, "You're coming with me. We've got eyes on the others."

"Steve?" came the rasping voice of a broken man.

He was answered by a headshake, "Not Steve. Pete's with them."

And just like that, Tony had been gifted the ability to walk, shedding himself of all signs of weakness so he could look at the situation with a clear head. Finally - some good news!

"Little one, you have to wake up. Please. Don't leave us."

"I can't find a pulse," Bruce was breathless as he searched for that little beat, his nephew's arms gripped tightly in big scientific hands whilst the clouds drifted past them, "I can't find a pulse!"

"You must try harder!"

"We need a defibrillator…Loki, can you conjure lightning?" he had known using his powers was a bad idea. He had known that Peter would overexert himself so soon after the plane crash and the uneasy night's sleep. Why had he let him do it? Why hadn't he fought harder?

"Of course I can," gentle kisses were pressed to the paling face beneath them, "Why?"

"Press your palms against his chest and summon it. I don't care how intense – just keep it to stun or something. We need to shock his heart back up."

The wild look in Tony's eyes was only matched by Loki's. Their mouths were both slack in shock as they gazed at their counterparts – a scientist for the God and an archer for the engineer – before silently Stark urged him to do it, wishing he could be there to hold his unconscious little boy.

Peter giggled amongst the stars as a strange energy enveloped him. It tickled his stomach whilst around him the planets drifted, no gravity to define where they stood, no laws that told them they had to adhere to physics. Glowing red eyes comforted him enough to relax; they were familiar, something he remembered from a time far off and confusing. Easily he felt a warm hand slip up his back and tickle his chin, as though beckoning him further into the darkness beyond.

"Daddies?" he asked hopefully, wondering where they could be.

"No fathers here…" replied a voice he remembered, but only in a dream, "You must come with me. Our time is ending."

"Wait," there was nothing for it – the hand that held him so closely was suddenly pulling him away, his feet without power when they moved further amongst the stars.

Tony pressed his hands against the glass with a cry on his lips. How could he be losing his son for the second time? As if it wasn't bad enough that he thought him dead in a plane crash, now he had to watch as that little boy slipped further away from them, off into the deep sleep of death that no one was ever roused from. He watched as the obsidian haired Asgardian placed flat palms on the boy, his hopes high when Bruce's eyebrows furrowed and he placed a steadying hand against his companion's shoulder.

"Wait," the God looked up to the researcher's voice, eyes wide with both terror and frustration, "Remember; only enough to stun. We just need to restart his heart."

The moment the words were out of his mouth, a deafening roar silenced all around them. Air jumped as lightning crackled from his palms, as though he commanded all elements that were present and not just that which he was conjuring, the boy's face turning grey with the effort of his disappearance.

"Captain," if only he could see the woman that addressed him so softly, "We've got eyes on Bruce and Loki."

"What? You have to tell me everything? Not a great secretary, are you?"

"Peter's with them."

"You better start telling me everything in _exact _detail, or I'll make every man here regret taking me," his voice became hardened when he heard that his son was there. Perhaps there was some hope?

Loki was getting desperate. Sweat dripped from his white features as he tried to zap harder, careful to keep it under dangerous but perhaps going a little above the 'stun' limitation. Effort poured out of every pore. Anger made every movement sharp. Fear made him cautious.

"Little one!" he cried once more, and that time Peter heard him.

He had been thrust along the planets too much for his liking, his powers taken from him and leaving him very helpless. The energy gripped him tighter as Loki's voice reverberated around them.

"No!" came his suddenly empowered voice, "Daddies! Uncles! Aunt!"

A miracle.

Green eyes shot open to Loki's last lightning bolt. They gazed up in a daze, the faces of men he knew looking both relieved and exhausted above him, ruffled by the desperation of their situation. Behind a computer screen his father cried out, grabbing the nearest table to steady himself whilst all the anxiety left him. His legs were shaking so hard that they could barely hold him up.

"Bring the drone down – get a helicopter to retrieve three Avengers." Clint said somewhere in the distance.

"Affirmative. Which three?"

"Hulk, Loki and Crimson Shades."

"Crimson Shades' status is deceased, sir."

"Stranger things have happened."

Silence reigned over as Loki gripped Peter's head to his shoulder, the fragments coming together like sap being sucked back into a tree. Bruce's hand pressed warmly to the boy's head, smile soft, peaceful heart set easy whilst the world fell into place.

"Never do that again, little one."

"Home now, Uncle Loki."


	100. Mattering

Even when they had boarded the rescue helicopter, Loki refused to let go of his nephew. With all the love of a lioness he clung to him, kissing his features over and over until Peter felt it unnecessary to have a bath that night, whilst Bruce kept himself busy by talking to the pilot.

Steve hadn't been found, but they were making slow progress towards it. The time was for victory, not a defeat; they had been saved from the unknown depths of an island that would have otherwise claimed their lives and the boy, though visibly shaken from his encounter, was alive. A smile played on his face as he looked at his uncles, both attentive to his needs in very different ways.

"I told you he was okay," Clint smiled at his companion with that hint of triumph about him, having known all along that their friends wouldn't have let the boy die. There was no love in his heart for gloating but when something went so right, when a bad situation had been alleviated and they had something to look forward to, it was hard not to let the occasional 'I told you so' slip.

Tony didn't seem to mind much as he clapped a happy hand on his friend's shoulder, a big smile on his face to complement the tears that ran down it, "Dammit Barton; this's the first time I'm glad you're right."

Noise and happy sobs sounded on the helicopter whilst it hurtled through the sky, its cargo as precious as the finest jewels in a museum. The God's hands toyed with his nephew's digits, balancing them in between his own long fingers as though comparing sizes, before he felt a chuckle escape his throat and take the bit of breath he was gathering. All would be well – he had Peter, and Peter was alive. He had saved him. That thought was enough to make his heart swell with an unmatched pride, one that came from helping rather than hindering and knowing that above everything, he had preserved the child's life. Bruce watched on, fascinated at the humanity that his companion was displaying when not a few months before, they had been attacking one another in the Conference room.

Well, more like the Hulk was attacking him.

"He's okay, Loki," the scientist said fondly once their nephew fell asleep again, the God's eyes nervous as he did so, "It's all going to be okay from here on out. We'll find Steve, get the others and go home. Back to the Tower."

Loki closed his eyes to remember home. For many centuries, home had been Asgard, his room one of the finest to be seen and his library even finer, regularly visited by women that he consorted with. His dining was always done in the grandest chamber imaginable, where the crystal chandeliers hung cordlessly from the sky and the paintings themselves seemed illuminated, as though some sorcerer had bewitched their eyes to sparkle. Yet none of that amounted to his floor in the Tower – there, he had complete control over what was happening. There the paintings were contorted and looked like winged beasts whilst his decorations floated aimlessly, a real master at wizardry behind the wheel so that everything would do his bidding.

And the best thing about it was, not a few floors up, the one thing he had a real connection with slept soundly every night. Though he had mostly stayed in his room when the boy wasn't around and his dealings with the Avengers were rare – they would get more frequent with his indoctrination, but he digressed – it was that boy that made him stay, that child who he laid waste to his talents and only practiced them in safe ways for. Nothing in Asgard could compare to what he felt as an uncle. There were no trinkets nor jewels that would ever make a larger place in his heart, not even the Tesseract itself.

"Loki? Loki?" the voice drifted in to his thoughts like an unwelcome intruder, granted it was as gentle as a harp's song and accompanied by a soft snap of the fingers. His eyes opened to see Bruce leaning forward, his hand outstretched whilst a grin grew on his face. "Thought I lost you for a minute there."

"I have no need to vanish," he replied with his own small smile, "There's plenty for me to do here, and much more I have to do for the little one. I will not go until he's commanded it."

"Peter loves you. He'll never want to leave."

"Then I shall never leave," that earned both of the men a smile. It was nice to think that their family would carry on forever, each little piece of it as sacred as the Holy cloth and each cog important, as though they were part of Ironman's suit and Captain America's shield. They made up the strings in Barton's bow, the black in Fury's eye-patch and the sharpness of Natasha's knives; if they thought hard enough, they were the glass of Bruce's beakers and the smash in Hulk's hands, with Thor's metal hammer bonded by their love and Loki's mischief their flame.

And Peter. Peter made up what it meant to be an Avenger. He was the reason why they woke up and faced harsh dangers every day, trailing behind them in an unassuming costume whilst his powers worked hard to defend their land. He was the innocence that they sought to protect, the children that would grow up and thank them one day for all they had done, all they would do; Peter was the future, and the future was bright.

"Sirs, we're about to land," calling Loki 'sir' left a bitter taste in the pilot's mouth but he daren't say anything else, fearful that he would stir the God's wrath and put him next on the Asgardian's hit-list. With anger he swallowed his pride, cursing himself for cowardice as they began their descent to the massive grey building below.

"We should not wake the little one."

"Let him sleep – Tony won't mind."

"I fear that Stark may try to rouse him. It has been so long since they saw one another," he brushed gentle thumb over his nephew's small knuckles, "He would surely be eager to."

"If that happens, then it happens. But he's sleeping now. That's all that matters."

Another smile flickered across sharp pale features, lighting them as though it were a firework in the dark belt of night, "Yes. He is all that matters."


	101. Captain's Passion

Steve's heart thudded painfully against his ribcage. Without thinking he tore at his bindings again, hoping that they might come lose and he'd have the chance to escape, the chance to rub his burned wrists as he took in where he had been kept.

"Your son's alive, Captain," that soft voice drifted to him through the darkness of his blindfold, as though she were a twisted angel sent by Lucifer to bring him the good news, "We didn't see him on our surveillance. He's been with the other two the whole time."

He couldn't resist the little smirk that came to him, "I told you; he's been dead before."

What he couldn't see through his blindfold was that the woman was very much relieved, with her back slumped against the L-shaped chair and her lips parted in a soundless breath. On the screens flickered Loki's passionate embrace of his nephew, his eyes stained with tears as he cradled the child closely to his shoulder and whispered something into his ear, something that must have gone along the lines of, 'Don't do that to us again, little one.' She didn't want to be the reason for the child's death. It had never been anyone's intention to wake up one day with an infant's blood on their hands, even if they were owned by a man who would do that for fun. To see the little green eyes peak curiously over the God's shoulder, staring deeply into the distance as if he knew she were watching…it was enough to make her hardened heart burst.

"He's quite the fighter."

"He's an Avenger."

"Still, he's a little young to survive the next assault," she tried desperately to warn him through her casual nature, "We'll be attacking the base again, and this time we'll succeed."

A threat that went unheard; it only made the good Captain laugh as he imagined them marching on up to the base once more, where Tony would have been fighting harder to keep their precious son safe. Images of Ironman and Loki ran through his mind before he could stop them and rewarded him with harder laughs, reverberating around the room despite his self-control.

"Try to go there, see what happens," he challenged once the roars had died down, "I'll bet you any money that Tony's going to kick your asses."

"You'd lose that bet." Why couldn't he see that she was trying to warn him? Why did he keep acting as though she were a cold blooded killer who had no emotions of her own, no one at home that waited for her and no siblings that she'd raised from babies? One finger curled in her long her as she remembered her home, so far off that she might as well have been in space.

"Try it."

"All I'm saying is that Peter's-"

"Don't say his name!" the challenge in his voice was quickly weeded out by rage, "Don't you dare say his name in here! I don't want you ever saying that again! When you talk about him, it's Crimson Shades! When you talk about _anyone, _it's codenames!" such passion from a man that hadn't shown any! His chest heaved with the fury of a father, unknowable to the lady that sat so close to him and hoped beyond hope that his bindings stayed tight.

But she was repentant for her mistake, "I'm sorry. All I'm saying is that Crimson Shades is young – he'll get caught in the crossfire somehow, especially when they realise he's there!"

"They won't realise," Steve insisted. His eyes were inflicted with a pain that she couldn't see, thoughts in his head of his son traipsing onto a battlefield before it all went to Hell and he was lost to them. They couldn't let that happen again.

"Steve-" she shook her head, "Captain, you've got to face the facts here. Blindly ignoring everything around you isn't going to fix the problem."

"The only problem I've got is these ropes!" he struggled against them to emphasise his point, "If you hadn't taken me, we'd all be safe! We'd all be at home right now looking after Pete, and you'd be in a prison cell where you belong. You're going to hurt so many more people!"

No one could deny he was right. Even once they were done with the Avengers there were more places to hit, more people to abduct and more children to kill, each one with a name and a face that they didn't know. It made her heart wrench in agony that she couldn't do anything about it.

Then she turned her head and caught sight of some scissors. Their razor sharp edges had been tended to by their resident psychopath, who was becoming harder and harder to distinguish from the people that she worked with, and they glinted under the bleak light as though becoming her to them. She took a glance at the Captain, then back at the scissors. Was it a sign? Did she have the bravery to do the right thing?

"Captain…"


	102. Heroes

"How long's he been asleep?"

Tony's fingers traced his son's face gently as he spoke, his eyes filled with tears that blurred the soft features before him. In his slumber he barely twitched, barely breathed whilst the celebrations went on around them; agents picking up wine bottles and enjoying a rare moment of peace together, minds far away from what could be on the horizon. All they cared about was the here and now. Here was Peter, their famed Crimson Shades, and now was their time for victory.

"About twenty minutes," it was Loki who replied, sitting in a comfortable leather chair that he had conjured from the charred remains on the floor, "He rested on the helicopter and woke briefly when we arrived, but he is far too tired to remain awake."

"He's been through a lot," Bruce put in just for good measure, as though Tony didn't understand the gravity of what they had suffered. The idea of trawling through a forest festering with all sorts of insects - some deadly and others not – was enough to send shivers down the billionaire's spine as he remembered his own camping trips, long ago when he was but a young boy with a barely average grasp on physics.

"There aren't really beds here anymore…" he said cautiously, the cogs turning endlessly in his mind, "But…we've got some great gurneys. I can modify one of them. Loki, do you mind?"

With a snap of his fingers and smile that could border on friendly, the God conjured one of the gurneys from what seemed like nothingness. In reality the person working in the morgue had suffered a horrible shock; one of the bodies he had been inspecting was suddenly on the floor, landing with a thud whilst the stretched had vanished and left no trace of its existence, or where it had been off to. A trembling hand pressed against his white forehead as he stared, momentarily shaken from his faith in science to believe in a higher power.

At least in Loki's mind, that wasn't far from the truth.

"Much appreciated," the billionaire was up and fiddling with the screws almost automatically, but no one paid any real attention. They had seen him changing scraps of metal into a fully functioning Ironman suit, bits of dented titanium used to fashion rockets and the rockets themselves powered by an almost unearthly source; if Tony planned to surprise them, it would take more than changing a gurney into a bed.

"There there, little one," a soft voice purred into the blackness that Peter was surrounded by, lulling him into a deeper sleep as peace washed over him, "You are safe. Rest easy, sweet Peter; we shall be here when you wake."

Loki's fingers entwined with the boy's, a pleased smile stretched on his face when he felt Peter grip them slightly and watched him pull them closer to his ear. The heavy weight in his heart lifted as he imagined what they would do when they returned home, when they had found the good Captain and dealt with his kidnappers in the most appropriate fashion – which seemed for Loki too lenient, but he wasn't about to argue – though it returned again as he thought of what pains Steve had gone through. Had they tortured him? Had they tried to force information from him by threatening his family, his home and all that he held dear, faced with odds every day that he might lose them? At least three full nights had passed since their leaving of the Tower; in that time they had heard neither word nor message from Steve or the people who had kidnapped him, and that only made matters worse.

But he pushed the thoughts aside. Like the agents he would celebrate the here and now without delving too far into the future, contented by the soft features of his little nephew and the praising words of Bruce.

"Loki did a great job out there," he mentioned quietly as Stark continued with his tinkering, "He really pulled through. I thought we lost Pete – I was ready to call it a day, but his lightning…"

Tony looked up as the memory flooded through his mind. All manner of screws and bolts were thrust out of the way to be replaced by his son, lying on the ground as though he'd been attacked by bears whilst the life poured out of him, the light in his eyes gone for all to see. The thought of his rosy red cheeks becoming grey was enough to knock the breath out of his lungs, enough to make him have to sit back from his work and take a moment to focus.

_He's okay Tony, _he reminded himself whilst rubbing his temples, _he's alive. Look; there he is, and he's okay. You don't have to worry anymore. Loki…Loki saved him._

"Thank you," he said sincerely, putting his hand on the God's knee and making him jerk suddenly to attention, "Thank you, Loki. Pete would've died out there if it weren't for you."

Embarrassment crept through his cheeks, "It was nothing. I love the little one." His white features were rosy when he looked away, a slight curse on his lips that he allowed himself the admittance. Wasn't it a weakness to love? Hadn't that been Thor's downfall in his plans all those years ago? It felt wrong to claim so openly that he now loved someone besides himself, to the extent where he would save him despite what was best for the God.

"I know…but thanks. You're a hero."

"Do you truly believe that?" his eyes were on Tony when he asked. They twinkled with a sort of vulnerability, as though the praise meant something more to the God than a casual, thrown-off comment. Without thinking Tony covered Loki's hand with his own and said, a hint of sincerity in his voice;

"You're a hero, Loki."


	103. Freedom

Steve rubbed his swollen wrists with the vigour of a man possessed, his eyes slowly adapting to the dim light around him. Though it wasn't much and it certainly didn't remind him of home, what little that streamed from the bulb and gifted him with sight was a huge step up from the blindfold, which lay beside him like a discarded oily rag.

The woman – his captor and then his saviour – smiled at him, brandishing the tool she had used to release the good Captain before she turned on her heels, the smile replaced by a fearful frown. What had she done? Her boss would kill her should he discover her deceit, conscience winning over personal gain once she had spent enough time with the Captain and learned of his love for the Avengers.

"Where's your boss?" he asked in a hardened tone, though tinged slightly with gratitude. His wrists still throbbed as he rose to his feet and his head hurt from lack of water, mouth dry enough to rival the Sahara desert whilst he fixed her with his most commanding of gazes. Blonde hair was sullied with soot, perhaps even a little dirt from the pit he had been kneeling in, but that wasn't enough to make him suddenly cover his head and act gentlemanly to the woman who had just saved his life.

"He's out, looking for your teammates," her voice was surprisingly calm, her fingers tapping at the computer screen in front of her without looking at the leader, "I've tried to call him back with hundreds of different emergencies but now…well…it's starting to wear thin. He doesn't trust me. And he shouldn't trust me, because I've just let you go."

Her voice faltered to betray the slightest hint of humanity, as though something within her had just snapped when she looked at the broken Steve and her conscience had finally won. With discomfort she handed him the scissors, his confused gaze not met by hers as she diverted it to their surroundings.

"I've been at this a long time," she sighed after what seemed like an age of silence, "We've done things I'm not proud of. We've…we've hurt a lot of people. It's become a routine, and I don't know why you're any different. You should be dead by now."

And just like that, Steve understood. He understood the position she had been in just by the use of her body language, the fashion in which she twisted her head to the side and tried so desperately to keep her eyes away from his, her fingers splayed out on the keyboard that Steve would no doubt be hopeless with. There wasn't any choice for her to do the thing she'd done. There hadn't been a choice and, for some unknown reason, she'd been forced to take up that job as a means of payment, perhaps for a sick family member or for a cause that she believed noble. Instantly his hand stretched out to stroke the frayed tips of her hair, his smile soft and kind despite the circumstances they were faced with.

"You're not a bad person," he noted so softly that it was scarcely audible, which made her narrow her distrustful blue eyes and fluff her hair slightly with a nervous hand. What made a man go from demanding to comforting? How easily could the soldier switch between emotions so different, as though they were never far from his mind?

"Tell that to the people I've killed."

"If you were a bad person, you wouldn't have let me go."

"Maybe it's all part of my plan? My big plan to actually trap you and sell your organs on the black market," a failed attempt at laughing scratched from her throat, reverberating around the room before it fell flatly silent again. The air barely jumped to her existence, its staleness so choking that Steve couldn't wait until he'd breached the surface and drunk in fresh oxygen, smelt the world in all its glory. He'd never take air for granted again. That being said, when he finally got his arms around his family, he'd probably never let them go.

"Then do it."

His challenge made her look up, and she was confronted by Steve platonically stretching his arms at his side as he stared down at her. There was no fear in his eyes when he passed her back the scissors and aimed them for his heart, the razor sharp point ghosting against his skin whilst he gave her another knowing look.

Her hands trembled on the handle, "What're you doing?!"

"If you were a bad person, you'd never let me get out of here. You'd kill me, especially when I tell you I'm going straight to your boss and saving my friends. If you're really a bad person, you'd kill me right now. So go ahead – kill me."

Silence descended across the room. A lone faucet from somewhere in the distance dripped, the only thing that could be heard as she brought the scissors closer to his chest and dared ghost them across his skin, barely enough to hurt, barely enough to be felt. For her sake he winced, hope in his heart that he hadn't misjudged the situation he was in, his mind on his precious Peter that waited in the arms of his fiancé.

_Wait there, soldier, _he thought bravely as the metal chilled his flesh, _Captain Daddy's on his way._

Tony's face drifted into his mind like it had done so many times before, inflicted by tears that leaked from deep chocolate eyes and loneliness lining his every feature. The Captain's heart twisted whilst an image of him lying alone appeared, his imagination running wild with where the billionaire's hands would be, how he would muffle his sobs into the pillow and hope that, even if they were never going to be together again, Steve's body would be safely brought home. It was all he could do not to suddenly push the woman away and run to his beloved, but he had given her a challenge. It was her chance to prove herself. His self-control made him keep two feet firmly on the ground and thrust his hands in his pockets, just so they wouldn't make him fight himself for freedom.

"I…I can't…" her strangled sob sounded as the scissors clattered to the ground, "I can't kill you. I can't watch another person die!" slender hands ran through dark red hair whilst she doubled over in her agony, a thousand images attacking her mind of all the innocent people she'd 'dealt' with. Their faces, their lives, their memories; she had stolen them all and given them to her boss, a man that she didn't even respect enough to keep his hostages safe. How could that pinnacle of heroism see any good in her?

Large thumbs took her wet cheeks and lifted her face to the light, which seemed all the brighter for the golden haired Captain in the room. He smiled softly at her with that knowing look; it was a look that a father gave when he had been proven right, his arms folded over his chest as his daughter stumbled drunkenly from the car and made tentative movements to her bedroom. In that instance, she felt both chastised and cherished. In that instant she felt everything Peter felt when he looked up at his father, the man of America, who had come through for him on more than one occasion. It was uplifting as she felt his fingers leave her face and watched him cross the room.

"You'll have to be arrested," he called over his shoulder, stretching his hand out to the derelict door hidden by shadow and noisily turning the handle, "There's no doubt about that. But…I'll put in a good word for you. Tell them you're ready to repent, how you saved me, and you'll be out in minimum five years."

She managed a weak smile as she called after him, "You spent seventy years in ice. Do you think I'll want to be in a prison cell?!"


	104. Recovery

Soft kisses traced Peter's face as the boy rose from slumber, his back aching from the incredibly stiff gurney beneath him and his hand clasped in a familiar grip. Warm scents floated all around the metallic room he lay in; Tony's beard after a particularly uneventful night of alcohol; Thor's thoroughly scrubbed and polished hammer; Bruce's chemical-laced hands and Loki's cloak, plagued by the foul stenches of the forest that he couldn't quite wash away.

"Daddy?" his soft voice rang out, alerting all the working agents that he was awake, "Daddy? Where you? Captain Daddy?" a few soft glances were exchanged as the men got into position, because they had still been struggling to find even a hint of Steve's whereabouts. It was as though he'd just vanished off the face of the Earth.

"Crimson Shades," the words were laced by concern but the grip loosened, his hand suddenly free despite the gentle protests escaping him; "You're awake. Good. We were worried that there may have been permanent damage."

It took a while for everything to register. Light poured down on his face and flooded the small room he was laying in, revealing the beeping machines that were so common in his work and the IV that he vaguely recalled being hooked up to before, the rest of what surrounded him covered by variously dressed agents. They tapped in statistics without looking at the boy behind them, some hairless and some not, though a few of them were kind enough to point towards the water tank and order that he get a cup. It was the least they could do for his troubles.

"Grandpa?"

"Not here, Shades," Fury's face was covered by a doctor's mask, one that matched the eye-patch in opaqueness and gave him the terrifying visage of a dozen different horror film characters, "It's director Fury here. You've been out for a few days now; we had to seclude a few of the team members when they got too anxious. Are you okay to stand?"

He tried valiantly. He tried to haul himself from the gurney and find his feet, but nothing seemed to be working. All the strength he once possessed had leaked out and disappeared to the floor, where it had probably filtered off into some super-criminal's veins for whatever use he had for it. The thought of some brutish thug wielding his God-given ability made Peter sick to his stomach, which really didn't help him stay upright as he struggled to his feet.

But Fury's hands were there to steady him. They were sturdy and rigid whilst the boy found some sense of balance, head swimming and the grey machines around him losing their block-like shapes to become floating blobs, each one drifting aimlessly past him as though there was no concept of gravity. In an instant Peter was flashed back to the drifting of his consciousness, where physics and law had no meaning and the only thing that mattered was him. The thoughts took him to a place in which safety was guaranteed but love – what he had seen of love anyway, with his parents and the overprotective nature of his team – was scarce, and that was enough to tell him nothing would be better than Earth.

"What do you remember of the plane crash?" oh, how the director hated interrogating his nephew. Despite the coolness of his voice and the apparent indifference as the boy sat in his metal chair, stiff-backed to assure the proper posture, his heart was breaking when he looked at those little features, each one so perfectly set that they could've belonged to an angel.

"Di-rec-tor…"

"We've questioned both Loki and Banner, and they can't remember much. We're hoping you can shed some light on it."

"Can't…can't…" his mind was further than it had ever been before, trying desperately to recover the fragmented memories his uncle sought, "Plane crash. The…room 'sploded. Uncle Loki get Peter, Uncle Bruce Hulk. Falling…falling…" hands were used to show the director what had happened to them; they floated down as though it was all a funny little nightmare, the 'thud' when they landed on the table more like the soft pat of a cat's paw, "Beach. On beach for night. Uncle Loki made house. Uncle Bruce made fire. Hulk go away."

Fury sighed. Though Peter had exposed that his Godly uncle had saved him and hadn't simply been in the right place at the right time – something the man hadn't revealed himself, which he noted in his massive mind-bank – it still got them no closer to finding out who did it, and no closer to finding their precious Captain America. It was all he could do to look into those green eyes and force a smile, soft so that the boy wasn't startled from recovery.

"It's going to be hard here for a while," he noted quietly as his hand captured Peter's, "There's a lot of damage to fix. We're still looking for Rogers. The tech they stole was pretty dangerous too, so we're trying to engineer something that'll remotely switch them off, or change their trajectories if they're used against us."

"Peter help," his thoughts cleared enough so he could understand what was happening, and the thought of helping his beloved team was the forefront of his mind. Nothing mattered so long as they were safe; if those terrorists were challenging their power, they'd be met with all of Peter's might.

"Stark's ordered that you stay in recovery until this's over."

"Daddy wrong. Peter help Daddy. Peter help team! Crimson Shades!"

And there it was. That determination, that courage. It resonated so deeply in little Peter that it was a wonder it hadn't spilt out, tumbling from the thin pink lips like a waterfall and bursting his skin as though a dam had busted, the creamy exterior of what held the boy together all over the floor whilst the tide continued flowing. Fury smiled both inwardly and outwardly, thankful that his precious nephew had been returned as a previously diminished hope in God reignited for a moment. It took him a few seconds to stamp it back out, reminding himself that he had been a government man too long to believe in the Lord.

"You'll have to bypass the security to access the lab."

"Computers; easy."

"Stark's put up new systems – he says they're the safest money can buy, and we both know that means he's designed them himself. Think you can hack 'em, kid?"

A flick of his hand, a glint in his eye met Fury's words, "Peter smart. Peter hack easy."

It seemed all so natural for the boy from the stars, who had exploded to their land with no name and, in his short residence, had changed the team's motive. They didn't fight for a faceless country anymore; the masses were an afterthought to what stayed in their minds throughout battle, the one person that they fought just a little bit harder to protect, trained just a little bit longer every day – their teammate. Their Shades.

Peter.


	105. Cold Comfort

Tony slumped over his latest workbench as the tears in his eyes stung, unable to continue with his mindless tinkering. It had caved down on him – first his fiancé had been kidnapped, then his son shot out of the sky and proclaimed dead, and even though the boy was returned to them the search for Steve was still fruitless. In that metallic lab of chrome and steel the scientist sat back, his chair as uncomfortable as the plank-like bed he slept on and the emptiness that still stabbed within his heart.

Peter had woken up. He knew that, and it proved some comfort. Amongst the conical flasks that lined the shelves above him and the schematics beneath his hands, he found peace in the knowledge that Crimson Shade's had been recovered. Loki and Bruce were still kicking as well, which only made their grim situation seem that little bit brighter as Tony grabbed the white lined sketches in front of him, some design for a new weapon that he had thought up in his free time.

Free time, meeting time – it was all the same thing to the billionaire.

"Tony," Bruce's voice entered the lab just seconds after JARVIS had alerted him, so the tense shoulders had already dispersed before the researcher saw him. A door clicked open and shut to further tell Tony that it was indeed a friend in his presence and not some psychopathic killer, with a gun aimed for the legend's head as he rambled on about poetic justice. That had happened once or twice in his short career as a hero. Once after an argument with some jilted lover, too.

"Brucey," his voice was cocky, confident, but the slight tremors within it were enough to say he was upset, "Didn't expect to see you in here. Thought you'd be sleeping."

"I told Loki I'd be awake when Pete woke up. It was the only way to get him to sleep."

"Hm," shoulders covered in black fabric rose in a shrug, but remained tight around the ears no matter what Tony did. They simply wouldn't fall far enough to give him the air of the completely relaxed philanthropist, the man whose thoughts were fleeting and normally revolutionised the world.

The only thoughts he had right then were on when he would see his Peter, and what steps were being taken to find the beloved Captain.

"He was safe, you know." Two pairs of brown eyes met each other in that horribly claustrophobic room. It suddenly felt as though the chrome was collapsing down on them and the plotted shelves above had given way, the conical flasks barely dangling on invisible strings whilst the men kept their gazes rigid, knowing that their conversation was more important than some would realise. Bruce had never fully trusted his teammates, not completely, but that was because he had always been afraid of hurting them.

He'd never thought he'd have to fix one.

"I know."

"He's always been safe."

"I know that. I trust you two, Bruce; I never thought you'd let Pete-"

"Not Pete," the doctor rubbed his eyes in exasperation, pushing his glasses further up his the bridge of his nose before letting them fall again, "Captain. Steve."

Stark mustered his award winning smile when he replied, "I know he's safe; he's Captain America. The pinnacle of perfection, the Aryan God that kicked the Nazi's ass, the-"

"The guy you're crying about."

Insufferable tears were trickling down Tony's cheeks as he wiped his face angrily, annoyed that he'd actually shown some trace of his true self in front of the man he worked with. Bruce was a fellow scientist, a true dignitary of the intelligent world; he wouldn't be reduced to tears with him watching.

"It's okay to cry," was all he said when the billionaire leapt to his feet, a pre-determined beeline straight to the door. His words were enough to make him hesitate as his hand reached for the handle, and he saw his opportunity in the slight whirring of the reactor and the heavy breathing of his friend. If he were to comfort him, it would have to be at that exact moment, or else the genius would simply find the nearest green bottle to wash his woes away.

Tony, for once in his relatively short life, said nothing. A soft hum rose from his chest that he couldn't distinguish between his heartbeat and the reactor, but it didn't particularly matter so long as Bruce could see his reaction. It was never okay to cry. Crying was for people who weren't in their situation – people who simply sat behind their TVs and watched their beloved shows, gnawing mindlessly at the nearest fast food container as yet another heroic deed was performed that was meant for their benefit. They weren't the ones sitting in that tiny little laboratory with a near life-changing schematic strewn here and there, their heads swollen with knowledge that had helped them rise to the top as they ached for just one person who understood them, one person that knew what it meant to be 'remarkable.' Tony had found that in Steve. But then Steve had been snatched away and he was alone again, lost in that little world of equations that had swallowed most of his life away.

The silence continued long enough for his hand to slip off the chrome door-handle. Bruce watched with a morbid interest as the usually cool billionaire suddenly became less of a visage and more of a person, the façade that acted as a dam suddenly bursting in a sort of controlled explosion. He knew that, deep down, Tony was fighting it with every ounce of strength he could muster, but whatever that was certainly wasn't enough to do the job.

"It's not," his voice came out as a whisper, "It's not okay to cry, Bruce."

The scientist stood to walk up to his friend, placing a warm hand on his shoulder as he offered a sad sort of smile, "Crying's good, sometimes. It reminds us that we're not invincible; we still have feelings. If we don't cry, we just go numb."

"I'd rather be numb."

"You say that 'til you are, then you realise what a bitch it is. Imagine seeing Pete smile and not feeling anything."

The thought was more grim than Tony cared to admit. If the stabbing, restless pain in his heart could have been rivalled by anything, it would have been the utter emptiness he felt if he couldn't smile with Peter.

His shoulders eased under Bruce's hand enough to make the scientist smile. With a sort of triumphant laugh he sat back in the nearest swivelling chair, quite annoyed that they weren't his favourite brand but at the same time not caring, because it just felt good to be far away from that island. The spiders there were about the only thing he was familiar with.

"You know he's going to try and hack into this place," the scientist mentioned as he casually gazed at Tony's complicated diagrams, already knowing how he would improve the various sketches with just a flick of a pencil, "Pete's clever. He'll probably try and get in here to make your weapons."

The billionaire managed to muster a genuine smile as he took a place beside his friend, "Pete's on lockdown. And because he's on lockdown, I completely agree with you."


End file.
